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THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 



THE 

DEVIL’S PULPIT 


BY 

H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON 

AUTHOR OF '“GALLOPING DICK,” 
“HURRICANE ISLAND,” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
1908 



Copyright, 1907, by 
STREET & SMITH 

Copyright, 1908, by 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 


Published, October, 1908 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 





PAGE 

I 

The Scarlet Runner 

. 

. 

. 


1 

II 

The Wreck in Southampton Water 


18 

III 

The Job Lot 





34 ) 

IV 

The Third Day Out 





52 

V 

Hunt-the-Slipper 





67 

VI 

McLeod 





80 

VII 

Concerning the Chart 




91 

VIII 

The Other Boat 





107 

IX 

The Desertion 





126 

X 

Night on the Island 





14 ) 4 ) 

XI 

Mark’s Way 





161 

XII 

Open War . 





180 

XIII 

The Storming of the 

Zariba 



196 

XIV 

In the Pulpit 





212 

• XV 

The Capture 





226 

XVI 

Ariadne 





24)1 

XVII 

The Six Palms 





260 

XVIII 

The Refuge in the Cove 




275 

XIX 

The Frenchman . 





291 

XX 

At the Stake 





308 

XXI 

The Seventh Chest 





328 


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*. I 



CHAPTER I 


THE SCAELET RUNNEE 

This story begins in the comfortable bar-parlour of 
the George Hotel, Southampton. It may be said to 
open then, even if I go back to the moment when I set 
eyes on the little man, with the long comforter about 
his neck, who at the time seemed of no consequence 
to me or my tale. For on that sharp April afternoon 
as I passed along the hall I threw a glance into the 
bar, usually haunted by several gentlemanly loafers, 
and my eyes were arrested by his queer figure. 

He wore a slouch hat, very wide of brim, and his 
red knitted comforter emerged above his overcoat and 
covered his scraggy neck up to the grey hair, and his 
hand that held a glass of brandy shook, I supposed, 
with cold. For the harbour was full of east wind, 
and the streets were blowing raw. The man’s appear- 
ance made a faint impression on me, only because of 
its oddity. He looked so piteously insignificant that 
I was moved to a passing sense of compassion. I 
should have liked to put him before a fire and warm 
him; but, as a matter of fact, I passed on and out, 
with this mere glimpse of him, and, once in the street, 
I thought no more of him. 

The threads of destiny are knit and shorn for us in 
unexpected places, and here at Southampton, and in 


2 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


the George, were mine and those of others being united 
even then. But I will come back to the George pres- 
ently. I walked down to the quays briskly, having 
an appointment there with a sea-captain, who had been 
a shipmate of mine some time since, and we enjoyed a 
chat and a glass of toddy in his cabin. And he comes 
only into this narrative in that it was from him I heard 
a piece of news that directed my footsteps when I left 
him. He nodded, out towards the water. 

“ Ever meet Skinner sley No.? I had an idea you 
shipped with him. That’s his show, with the striped 
funnels.” 

“ Oh, a Cape Coach,” said I, recognising the brand. 

“Yes; he got in an hour ago — raced one of the 
rival lines from the Cape — one of Charlesworth’s 
Scarlet Runners, as they call ’em, from the colour. 
Beat her too on the post.” He laughed. “Guess 
the Scarlet Runner’s run up against trouble. Signalled 
somewhere off Plymouth she was short of coal; that 
comes of making an early start, and not picking it up 
at Madeira. He’s death on pace, and a fool, is Wade.” 

“ Wade.? ” I asked quickly. “ Mark Wade.? ” 

“That’s the hero,” said my friend; “know him? 
Well, a short life and a merry one, I should say, was 
his motto. In our business, Herapath, we play for 
safety.” 

It was certainly true of him, and I liked him none 
the less for it; but there is a certain attraction in the 
brilliant adventurer, and I had a frank weakness for 
Mark Wade, who was an old acquaintance. Therefore 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


3 


when I left my captain I strolled farther down to 
make an inquiry. Presently I came upon a little knot 
of seafarers in conversation, and stopped. 

“ Is the Cape Horn due, do you know .? ” I asked. 

One of the men laughed. “ There she comes, if I’m 
not mistaken,” he replied with the easy familiarity of 
a sailor to his kind. “ Burnt up all her fixtures by 
this time, I shouldn’t wonder. There she goes,” as a 
rocket went up in the evening twilight. “ Now, that’s 
the stuff he’s made of. Wade will always make a 
splash.” 

“ I’ll be hanged if he can get farther than the Solent,” 
said another of the group. We all watched with in- 
terest. 

The Cape Horn slowly toddled up Southampton 
Water, her flags flying. Mark Wade would die game, 
and make no poor mouth. 

“ Burnt all his bulkheads coming up the Channel,” 
explained one of the men to me. “ It’s a case of firing 
in two senses, eh.^^ ” 

There was a general laugh. The news was about, 
brought, no doubt, by the Cape Coach that had run 
neck and neck with Wade’s Scarlet Runner. But Wade 
was arriving undaunted. It was like his impudence; 
bold as brass, he steamed up and cast anchor in the 
Water. 

“ See his face when he comes ashore,” said my in- 
terlocutor. “ He’s got half-an-hour with the agents, 
I shouldn’t wonder.” 

The group dispersed, but I hung about, waiting. 


4 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


partly out of curiosity, and partly, I think, out of 
something better. Wade would need some sympathy 
to meet him ashore. All the idlers on the quays knew 
the story by this time; it was passing from tongue 
to tongue, no doubt with exaggerations. He would 
land, a laughing-stock, the butt of all eyes, a target 
for the shafts of wit and sally. I saw him put off from 
the liner. 

I was now aware that by me was a clean-shaven 
young man with rather long fair hair, who was watch- 
ing the approach of the small boat through the twi- 
light. He turned to me, addressing me with a certain 
formality, but yet with assurance, and I knew his 
nationality almost before he opened his mouth. 

“ I guess it won’t be any fun for that captain pres- 
ently,” he said. 

“ He’s got a warm quarter with his directors, if what 
they say is true,” I returned. 

“ Well, come to think of it, he’s had his fun, and that 
turns out square,” said the young man philosophically. 
“ He can’t complain.” 

On my other side I suddenly heard a voice raised in a 
question, and I looked round. I saw the wizened elderly 
little man in the comforter. 

“ Pardon, could you tell me if the Hamburg ship 
comes to Southampton to-night ? ” 

The Gallicism of this was obvious at once, not only 
in the intonation and accent, but in the fatal “th,” 
which seems only reproducible by Englishmen and 
Spaniards. 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


5 


“ No; to-morrow’s the day,” I told him. 

His face puckered in wrinkles, which probably in- 
dicated a frown, but his face, it was obvious, must 
fall into wrinkles whatever emotion he displayed. I 
guessed this exhibition for disappointment, though it 
might as easily have passed for satisfaction. It was 
his voice that enabled me to arrive at the proper solu- 
tion. 

“ Ah, I’ve been misinformed,” he said sadly. “ I read 
it was to-day.” 

“ No,” I answered ; “ the German boat leaves South- 
ampton to-morrow, and goes by Cherbourg.” 

‘‘ Cherbourg ! ” he echoed, and lifted one mittened 
hand to his mouth. It trembled, as the hand which 
had held the glass in the bar-parlour had trembled. 
I remembered that I had pitied him for being so cold, 
which returning sense of his wretchedness made me 
now continue. 

“ You’re bound for New York, monsieur? ” 

“ No — ^yes ; at least I think so,” he replied confusedly, 
and quickly turned away. 

“ I reckon,” observed my American friend, who had 
been listening, “ that they’ll stop a figure like that at 
Ellis Island. He’s an offence against our Contract 
Laws — guess he’s engaged by a dime museum.” 

I walked across to the top of the quay, which the 
boat was now approaching, and looked down. I could 
see Mark Wade in the stern, rudder in hand, coming 
ashore like an admiral in his gig. He called out a 
direction, and in another moment she bumped the steps. 


6 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Wade came over the side of the quay into the centre 
of a small and interested crowd. I stepped quickly 
forward. 

« Wade!” said 1. 

His eyes lightened. “ Halloa, old chap,” he returned. 
“ Glad to see you. Come along, and let’s have a 
talk.” 

I took his arm, and we passed quickly along the quay 
towards the town, followed by the flight of many eyes. 
I took Wade to the George, and we entered the bar- 
parlour. 

Now the George has two bar-parlours, only separated 
by a partition which does not ascend to the ceiling ; one 
of them was empty, and of this we took possession. 
Mark Wade sank into a chair, and took the whisky and 
soda I had ordered for him at a draught. 

“ I needed that,” he said slowly, and looked at me. 

“ I suppose I know,” I returned to that look. 

Wade smiled, and his smile was always pleasant. 
He had bright, changing blue eyes, f air, short hair, and 
an upcurling moustache. He was thirty-flve or so, 
and had rather a swaggering air. His face was full- 
fleshed and bronzed. 

“ The order of the bag,” he remarked, smiling even 
more pleasantly. “ Well, I had a good time, and I’m 
damned if I shouldn’t have beat Skinnersley, but for an 
accident to one of the engines. If I’d had you, old 
boy, I’d have won.” 

“ And we should both have been out of employment,” 
I remarked drily. 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


7 


He shrugged his shoulders. “ Well, you are already, 
Ned, so that brings us to where we were. Anyway, 
I’m gone. I don’t know that it’s not a good thing. 
I’m tired of the route. I’ll try China or the South 
Pacific. Not that there’s no fun Africa way. There 
was a mighty pretty girl out Capetown this trip that 
would take any amount of sparking. A woman on 
shipboard, Ned, is the deuce of a flirt. They can be 
very warm; but you’ve got to be fatherly and avun- 
cular if you’re the old man; and that’s the worst. 
Damned if I wouldn’t sooner be permanent second 
officer.” 

He laughed irresponsibly, and I corrected him. 

‘‘ No, doctor,” I said ; “ other things don’t count 
where there’s a doctor about — certainly not an engi- 
neer.” 

“ Oh, you don’t count anyway,” he said cheerfully. 
“ See, what’s the matter with dining with me to-night 
I want to fix up things aboard, and then I’m done. 
I’m not going to march in red-tape ribbons up to 
Charlesworth’s counter. I’m my own man by now. 
What do you say ? ” 

As I had nothing before me for the evening, I said 
yes, and Wade rose to go. As he did so I noticed 
his full, frank gaze levelled at someone who had just 
entered from the lounge in the hall. 

“ Captain Wade, I guess.? ” 

I turned and there was my American, his boyish face 
pleasantly smiling and an ingratiating air of assurance 
in his manner. 


8 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ That’s me,” said Wade shortly, looking the other 
up and down. 

“ Captain Wade, I’m not waiting for any introduc- 
tions, for I guess I can’t. I’m just marching in right 
away. Anyway, you can put this down as business.” 
Wade pulled out his watch. “ Oh, it can be fixed up, 
yes or no, in half-an-hour, sir, so if you’ll be good 
enough to resume that seat, and,” he glanced at the 
counter, “ that glass, we can get along at once.” Here 
his eyes fell on me, and he nodded in a friendly way. 
“ Took the liberty of following you up,” he remarked 
cheerfully. 

Wade settled himself in his seat, waiting. His face 
was shrewd and contained now, even showing a certain 
hardness. Here was a stranger introducing himself for 
an unknown purpose. It was certainly a case for sus- 
picion. It flashed through my mind that the man was 
an enterprising reporter, anxious to interview a fool 
on his folly. Perhaps that idea occurred to Wade 
also, for there was a metallic glint in his eyes. 

“ Say, what’s yours ? ” asked the American, ap- 
proaching the bar. The barmaid poured out two 
jorums of whisky, and the young man appeared to 
ponder and hesitate, and then, “ Well, give me just a 
little,” he entreated, and on a very small allowance of 
spirit lavished a great deal of water. “ I’m not much 
in this line myself,” he explained, took a sip, and turned 
to Wade confidentially. 

“ That little joke of yours is going to be expensive,” 
he remarked. 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


9 


Wade flushed, and frowned, and then laughed. 
“ What the devil if it is ? ” he asked. “ It’s my own 
aifair.” 

“ That’s so,” remarked the American thoughtfully, 
‘‘ if you want to keep it so. But you can spread your 
liability, so to speak.” 

“ What do you mean.? ” asked Wade. 

The young man leaned nearer. “ Say,” said he, 
“ these old companies are all copper-bottomed, and Al. 
They want a safe thing; and the man who brings ’em 
in a secure three per cent, is their man. They don’t 
hold with higher flights, eh.? ” 

“ If you mean Charles worths, you’re right,” said 
Wade, grinning. 

“ I don’t know but it’s a good enough plan,” pur- 
sued the other, “ in a general way. But, there’s times 
when we’ve no use for safety, and that’s where a bril- 
liant man comes in. There’s more been done in this 
world. Captain Wade, by forgetting the rules or ignor- 
ing them than by following them like a prayer-book. 
Copy-book maxims are good enough in copy-books.” 

‘‘ I’ve forgotten ’em,” said Wade easily. “ Ned, what 
time’s this dinner.” 

“ Say, now, don’t get in a hurry,” said the American. 
‘‘ I don’t know but we’ll manage things between us in 
five minutes. But it was necessary for me to preface 
my proposition with these remarks so as you should 
see the bona fides. Now, we’ll toe the scratch. Your 
billet in the Charlesworth Company isn’t likely to con- 
tinue.? ” 


10 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


Wade paused a moment, drank his whisky, and then 
yielded to his easy good nature. 

“ To be quite frank with you, my dear sir, it doesn’t 
exist any longer.” 

“ That’s all right,” said the stranger affably. “ Be- 
cause the sort of man Charlesworths don’t want some 
other fellows might want.” 

“ Eh! ” said Wade, his attention arrested. 

The American turned and nodded through the door- 
way, and in response to this signal a man strolled out 
of the hall, and joined us in a leisurely way. He wore 
spectacles, had a broad forehead under brown hair, 
and a bushy moustache, and seemed to be about forty. 
He stood listening. “ My name’s Halliday, Vincent 
Halliday,” said the American, “ and my friend here 
is Mr. Davenant; and we’re in just this hole that 
we are looking for a skipper, a good sailor and a free- 
lance, so to speak. Now, after what we’ve heard, it 
struck both of us that you’d suit the case.” 

He paused. Wade looked from one to the other. 
His position was difficult, and he knew it. It was un- 
likely that he would find it easy to obtain a ship after 
his recent wilful escapade. But who were these un- 
conventional strangers ? The new-comer, seeing his 
hesitation, spoke. 

“ The point is merely this. Captain Wade,” he said 
in a very measured and meticulously correct voice, 
“ that owing to an accident our boat which is due to 
leave to-morrow has no captain, and we understand that 
you are likely to be disengaged.” 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


11 


“ That is so,” said Wade bluntly; and then: “ What 
is she? ” 

“ You may put her down as a tramp,” said the even 
and almost effeminate voice, which minced words like 
a dancing master. 

“ She sails to-morrow? ” asked Wade. The Ameri- 
can nodded. “ Tonnage? ” 

“ A thousand.” Wade put out his hand for his glass 
and drained it, a smile on his face. 

“ Where do you go? ” 

I glanced at Halliday’s face for the answer, and in 
doing so my eyes shot through the open doorway into 
the hall. A little figure, gathered into a wisp, was in 
a corner of one of the lounges, and my eyes flashed on 
it a second time, as I recognised it as that of the little 
Frenchman who wanted to go to New York by the Ger- 
man liner. There was almost an imperceptible pause 
ere Halliday’s reply came. 

“ I reckon we can fetch Baltimore this trip. But 
we’re not hide-bound pedants.” 

“What are you?” asked Wade with his customary 
directness. 

“ I’m acting for the owners, and I’m part owner,” 
said Halliday. 

“Oh, this is a one-ship company, eh?” said Wade. 
“ I see the scheme. Well, it pans out all right mostly, 
but it’s small beer for a Charlesworth commodore.” He 
laughed. “ However, if we can fix up terms, I’m with 
you. It comes in to suit me. That’s all.” 

“ To-morrow ? ” inquired the American. 


12 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Wade nodded. “ I’m not going hat in hand to 
Charles worths. I’m game for to-morrow.” 

“ Good,” said Halliday ; “ then we’ll fix up all details 
this evening, I guess.” He glanced at me, who had 
taken no part whatsoever in this conversation. “ Per- 
haps your friend here would join us in a little dinner. 
That would get it over nice and easy, and we shouldn’t 
be interfering with your arrangements much.” 

Wade shot a question at me, and I answered: “It 
is very good of you.” 

“ Very well, then.” The American turned as some- 
thing brushed his elbow, and he followed it with his 
eyes, as did Wade and I myself. It was the French- 
man, who slipped between us to the bar. 

“ A glass of cognac, please,” he ordered in correct 
English, his foreign air clearer than ever. He put out 
a hand, but this time it was steady. He was not cold 
any longer. Turning, he favoured the American with 
a furtive glance. 

We had fixed an hour for the dinner, and in the 
interval I wandered in the town, while Wade went back 
to his Scarlet Runner. I was in Southampton, as we 
say, on an off-chance that I might get a berth as en- 
gineer, for I had been disengaged for some months. 
And here was Wade summarily dismissed by one em- 
ployer and greedily accepted by another all in one half- 
hour. It had an ironical look, as I considered the situa- 
tion grimly ; but I did not grudge W ade the reward of 
his bounce, and as for myself, I was in no immediate 
peril of the workhouse. Still, the sea calls in the ears 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


13 


even of an engineer, calls above the whirr and smell 
and heat of the engine-room. 

Our Yankee friend arranged an admirable little meal, 
and hung on our wants with ceremony. He looked 
young and fair and pale, as might have been a poet 
with ideals, and his eyes were bright and meaning. At 
times they were occluded, as if under veils of thought, 
but at other times they broke Out with ecstatic light, and 
shone and danced. There was, to my fancy, something 
mesmeric about the face, which might have been that 
of a mystic, or of a fanatic, or even of a mediaeval saint. 
His manners were gentle, and his voice, though dis- 
tinctively American, was modulated; and there emerged 
in him occasionally a distinct sense of the humorous. I 
could not but like him, though he gave me the strong 
impression of not revealing himself. Anyway, what 
odds was it to me, who was there to accept the hospital- 
ity of an amicable stranger, and to whom therefore 
only the superficial mattered.? 

But there was my mistake, to explain which I must 
come to the fifth of the company, whom I have not yet 
mentioned. Davenant, suave and soft-voiced, has made 
his bow; but a very different sort of fish was Marley, 
who accompanied his friends to dinner. Marley was 
loud of voice, rough of manner, and heavily marked with 
small-pox on a swarthy face. His moustache hung 
black and low on a rough mouth, and he walked with 
the assertive gait of a sailor. He stared you out of 
face with no misgivings and no mercy, but not ap- 
parently with any desire to annoy you. It was merely 


14 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


his inconsiderate habit, and I believe he was often un- 
aware of his action. Well, Marley came into my life in 
his masterful blunt way a little late in the evening. 

He was an excellent hand with the bottle, and carried 
his liquor well, the only developments visible, or rather 
audible, from his drinking being a rise in the tempera- 
ture and quality of his voice. Our American drank 
sparingly, as he ate. 

“ I guess if I took more I’d be laid up with a head- 
ache to-morrow,” he explained. 

But he talked as lively as a bacchanalian all the time ; 
as did Wade, whose tongue was always loosened by 
liquor. Only Davenant sat silent; Davenant and my- 
self up to a point. The business part was concluded 
early in the evening, and the talk thereafter fell on the 
sea and seafaring. Here Marley’s coarse voice began 
to dominate the room. He spoke easily, fluently, with 
absolute assurance, and as raucous as a raven. 

“ When I was in Panama. . . .” There was some- 
thing happened when he was in Panama. Something 
of interest had also happened when he was at Rangoon, 
and again at Lima. Wherever he had been something 
had happened, and by this I mean something of a 
genuine interest. He had collected vicissitudes, had 
Marley, like postage stamps or picture postcards. To 
do him justice, he was not often the hero of his nar- 
ratives, and in many cases did not figure at all; but 
“ A fellow I knew,” “ A man back of where I was,” 
“ chaps” he had heard of, had passed through excit- 
ing adventures. I had begun by thinking him a typical 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


15 


sailor ; I ended by doubting. He had seen too adventur- 
ous and varied a career to be anything typical, unless it 
were the typical adventurer. And it was only by ac- 
cident that I discovered what he really was now, by the 
accident which diverted the course of my life. For in 
the midst of a yarn, to which the table was listening 
interestedly, but Davenant with a covert smile behind 
his glasses, Marley came to a pause. 

“ And that reminds me, old chap,” he addressed Hal- 
liday, lolling elbow on table. “ What about Skeggs ? 
You know, he won’t do.” 

Halliday made a gesture towards Mark Wade by his 
side. “We’ve got our captain now,” he said; “it’s 
his affair.” 

Marley turned his voice on Wade. “ Well, the 
blighter won’t do, old man; upon my soul, he won’t. I 
don’t believe he knows a differential gear from a differ- 
ential calculus, and he boozes.” 

“ What’s this.f^ ” asked Wade cheerfully. 

“ Why, a damned engineer we shipped,” said Marley. 
“ I was going to take it in hand as first officer, but as 
you’re duly constituted now, it’s your affair.” 

So this was the first officer ! A ship with such a first 
officer, I reckoned, could hardly be an orthodox mer- 
chantman. But what Wade said dissipated my reflec- 
tions for the time. 

“ Gentlemen, I’m not aboard yet, and I haven’t even 
seen my boat, but Mr. Herapath here is a fully quali- 
fied engineer, in whom I have the utmost confidence.” 

The table turned its eyes on me. “ That so ? ” said 


16 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Halliday, scanning me with his questioning eyes. “ I 
reckon what’s good enough for the captain is good 
enough for us,” he added, with a smile. 

Marley’s gaze stared me out of countenance frankly. 
“ That’s queer,” he said. “ You’d better come along.” 

I put my position modestly in a nut-shell. “ Gentle- 
men, I’m out of a job. If you want me. I’ll come.” 

“ That’s all right,” responded Halliday in his easy 
voice; “ Captain Wade will fix that up.” 

Upon me were directed the glasses of Davenant, as 
if he had but now come to the conclusion I was of some 
interest. I said nothing more; the incident had been 
unconventional, and was better ignored at that time, 
and in these circumstances. Marley resumed his stories, 
and we parted not long afterwards with many pro- 
fessions of amity. 

I was indebted to Marley’s loud voice for something 
that sent me to bed in a thoughtful mood. We drifted 
down the passage from our private room, and the vis- 
itors sought the cloakroom. Here it was in the jumble 
that I overheard a remark passed by the first officer. 

“ Well, that’s a good thing,” he said, apparently to 
Halliday. “ Anyway, it freezes up McLeod, and he’ll 
damn well have to be doctor now.” 

What sort of a boat was this in which such remarks 
were possible ? I could not guess. I was interested. 
As I came out to my friend Wade the haunting figure 
of the little Frenchman was dancing in the hall. He 
was evidently looking for someone, and he had a frown 
on his brow. 


THE SCARLET RUNNER 


17 


“ Do you know,” said Wade as we walked off into 
the darkness of the night. ‘‘ I thought that little beg- 
gar was going to speak to me.” 

So did I; but I wasn’t thinking of him, I was turn- 
ing over the phrase I had heard : “ McLeod, then, would 
damn well have to be doctor.” What could it all mean ? 


CHAPTER II 


THE WEECK IN SOUTHAMPTON WATEE 

Wade took command of the Duncannon early next 
morning, and I met him by appointment at ten o’clock. 
The steamer, which was of about a thousand tons, and 
underengined, as I saw at once, lay in the stream, a 
stretch off the quay. The wind blew nippingly, and the 
loud water talked against the masonry. As I was se- 
curing a boat I noticed a woman standing on the quay. 
She had her hand to her hat in that brisk wind, and so 
I was unable to tell if she were young or guess at her 
looks ; but her figure was tall and slight, and had the 
appearance of grace at a distance. I just glanced and 
thought no more; and five minutes later I boarded the 
Duncannon. 

I was met by Marley, whose head hung over the 
taffrail in an easy contemplative manner, and I was 
hailed genially, as by one who had known me inti- 
mately for years. 

“ Halloa, old man, glad you’ve come. There’s a row 
royal on about the second mate’s place.” 

“ Second mate ! ” I echoed, amazed at this casual 
information. 

“Yes; but I’ve washed my hands of it. Wade’s 
got to settle it now. That’s what a skipper’s for, 
eh?” 


18 


THEWRECK 19 

Landed aboard, I faced him. I took him in his own 
way, frankly. 

“ Look here, would you mind telling me what you 
really are, and what this outfit is ? ” 

He stared at me in his usual candid way, and then 
laughed. “ Well, we’re just a tramp out for cargo, you 
know. If you’ve got goods that want shifting, you 
can ring us up, and we’ll allow back commission.” He 
strolled aft as he spoke, and left me, and I went for- 
ward to make inquiries about Wade. I expected to find 
him the centre of altercations, but instead I found him 
in conversation with the little Frenchman of the pre- 
vious night. He nodded at me, and continued. 

“No; it can’t be done, sir,” said he decisively; 
“ we’re only a tramp, and no passenger boat. Hang 
it, man, there’s the Hamburg liner due this after- 
noon.” 

“ Ah, but she goes. Monsieur Captain, to New York. 
I do not wish to go to New York. I wish to go to 
Baltimore, where you go. I will pay my passage, 
and ” 

Wade waved him aside impatiently. “ I’ve said it 
can’t be done. I’ve got no orders. If you can fix it 
with my owners, all right. But I’m not running pas- 
sengers on my time-sheet.” 

“ Where,” demanded the persistent foreigner, “ is 
the owner.? ” with his v’s and his z’s uppermost. 

Wade shrugged his shoulders. He had lost patience. 
“ Somewhere ashore,” he said carelessly, and walked 
off. 


20 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Mr. Davenant,” said he as he came abreast of me. 
“ Turn that little ragamuffin over the side, will you. 
He pesters me, and if we’re to sail midday ” 

“ What, midday? ” I asked in surprise. 

He nodded. ‘‘ Smart work. This is a real daisy, 
Ned. I haven’t struck an odder outfit since I started 
on my own. It’s great.” 

“ What on earth is it ? ” I inquired. 

“ Haven’t the least notion,” he replied. “Pay’s 
good, and ship’s all right. Look here, Ned, I’ve 
fired that boozer, and you’ve got to sign on. I’ve 
made it square. Look alive, boy, and get your 
kit.” 

I was for a moment staggered. All sorts of reflec- 
tions crowded upon me, and I was aware that I wanted 
time. This was amusing enough as an unconventional 
show, and Mark Wade, reckless adventurer, might con- 
sider it great, but I did not quite know if it appealed 
to me to take a hand in it. However, Wade had al- 
ready assumed that I would join him, and even as I 
summoned my resolution to my aid I was aware of the 
charming bustle aboard that antedates departure, and 
always sets my heart in a flutter. I had been out of 
place for six months, and 

“ Right, I’m game,” said I. 

Wade paid no heed. “ Rum, that beggar turning 
up again,” he said meditatively. “ Seemed to take on 
a bit that he couldn’t come.” 

I did not think it rum, for I had seen more of the 
Frenchman, and I was convinced that he had followed 


THE WRECK 


21 


us and eavesdropped. He knew our plans; but, good 
Lord, what were our plans? It was all an enigma. 

I hurried ashore to complete my arrangements, which 
were not elaborate, and I must have landed a little in 
the rear of the foreigner. At any rate, I caught him 
up towards the town, and to my surprise recognised 
by her dress and carriage his companion for the girl 
who had stood on the quay. I say girl, because it was 
obvious now, seen at close quarters, that she was young, 
and as I overtook and passed them I saw too that she 
was handsome. I had but a glimpse, for manners for- 
bade me to turn round and stare at her. The man was 
walking in silent dejection, still wrapped about with 
mufflers, and invoked in me once more that wave of 
contemptuous pity I had felt for him. 

I got back to the Duncannon in a very short time, 
and went down to the engine-room. I heard Halliday 
was aboard, but I did not wait for ceremonies. The 
engine hands I found capable, and my second a faith- 
ful fellow who had worked himself by painful appli- 
cation up the ladder. He spoke with a strong northern 
accent, and his name, it appears, was Collins. Ten 
minutes later I had completed the formalities necessary 
to my position, and received, for what they were worth, 
Mr. Halliday’s compliments and thanks. 

“ I guess you’ve got us out of a fix, Mr. Herapath,” 
said he, his bright eyes everywhere as he smiled, “ and 
laid me personally under an obligation.” 

I repudiated this view of it. “ Business is business,” 
I said bluffly, “ and I wanted a berth.” 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


22 

That’s all right,” said the gracious young 
man. “ And we’re just going to be a happy family 
together.” 

As if to give ironic point to his remark I heard at 
this juncture Marley’s voice roaring on deck, and the 
exclamations of a sharp quarrel. Then the door of the 
cabin was burst open and a tall, sandy-haired thin 
man of five and thirty appeared, red of face and choleric 
of appearance. 

“ Look here, Halliday, I’ll be damned if I’ll be treated 
this way,” he said with a discernible Scottish accent. 
“ It was arranged that I was to be second officer when 
we made the compact yesterday. I’ll see that swine in 
Hades before I’ll let him stand in my shoes.” 

“ Steady,” enjoined the American suavely. “ Let’s 
get a cinch on this, doctor. I guess we can work a 
way out of this trouble. No hot air, doctor. It spoils 
the complexion.” 

He smiled engagingly ; but his soothing manner 
made no impression on the furious Scotsman, who broke 
out anew, and consigned the whole ship to perdition. 
The interruption came from Mark Wade, who entered 
attracted, no doubt, by the angry din. 

“What’s this racket, Mr. Halliday.?” he asked 
quickly, taking in such of the situation as emerged. 

“ Well,” said the American uneasily, “ there’s a lit- 
tle complication here, captain, but we can square it 
pretty easy. The doctor, here, was kind of promised 
the second officer’s place, and then ” 

Wade put up his hand. “ That’ll do,” said he. “ I 


THE WRECK 


2S 


choose my own officers for this trip, and I’ve fixed up 
with Mr. Davenant, who holds, I believe, a master’s 
certificate. What are your qualifications, sir.?^ ” The 
Scotsman looked his menace, but growled out only : 

‘‘ I’ve been a yachtsman for years.” 

‘‘ I guess that won’t do for me,” said Wade. ‘‘ The 
point is, we don’t want another second officer, and I 
should say, judging from the temperature of this outfit, 
we should want a sawbones badly this trip. I want to 
know a little more, Mr. Halliday, than I do know, and 
you and I must have a talk together. I don’t pre- 
tend this is the most orthodox boat I’ve handled; but 
orthodox or not, I’m going to handle it while I’m here, 
and you must make up your minds to that. And now 
we’ve come to that, Mr. Halliday, there’s too much rum 
about for my liking. The bilge stinks of it. By the 
Lord, I’m not going to have rum fiow on my boat with- 
out knowing why.” And he glared at the doctor, who 
regarded him sullenly, malevolently. The insinuation 
was obvious, as obvious as its justice. The reek of the 
spirit was in the cabin. 

“ Oh, be damned,” said the Scotsman, and walked 
surlily out, leaving us there in silence. Then Wade 
turned to the American. 

“ We’ll have that quarter of an hour’s talk, if you 
don’t mind, Mr. Halliday,” he said firmly; and I fol- 
lowed the doctor. 

When Wade met me on deck he was in another mood. 
Preparations for departure were far advanced, and I 
had seen that the engines were in order. 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


24 

“ By heavens, Ned,” said he, “ this is better than 
racing a Cape Coach ; it is, by jingo ! ” 

“ Do you know what you’re doing ? ” I asked drily. 
His nose wrinkled in a way he had, and he winked 
at me. 

“ I know we’re to trim our course for Baltimore,” he 
said, “ and I know that some of our owners have taken 
this fancy to travel along with us. That’s all I know, 
and that’s all I want to know. But, owners or not 
owners, they’ve got to toe the mark I make, my son.” 

It was owing to the free and easy methods of this 
astonishing tramp that we did not get off as had been 
arranged by midday. The question of stores came up, 
and it appeared that the man in charge of the store- 
room had forgotten an important order. 

“ Damn it,” said Marley, “ we can’t go to sea with- 
out provisions. Where the devil’s Clifford.^ ” 

“ He’s ashore ^somewhere. I saw him in the town 
an hour ago,” said another, with a slight Irish brogue 
and a cheerful face. 

“ It’s a bit too thick,” grumbled yet another who was 
addressed as Digby, and was an elderly shrunken man 
with a battered face. Ostentatiously he carried a boat- 
swain’s whistle. I glanced at Wade, who was eyeing 
the group. It was six bells, and we were due to start. 

“ Where the devil’s Digby ? ” cried Marley. 

“ Gentlemen, you can start when you like, of course,” 
said Wade quietly, ‘‘ but when you’ve made up your 
minds I’ll be obliged if you’ll stick to them.” He moved 
away, and joined me^ 


THE WRECK 


25 


What’s that boatswain doing there? ” I asked in 
amazement. 

“ That, my son,” said Wade, his face relaxing into 
a grim smile, “ is one of our owners. He’s had some 
experience as a yachtsman, I’m told. And, Lord love 
you, Ned, our absconding storekeeper’s another owner. 
It’s wonderful; it’s beautiful; and I shouldn’t wonder 
but there’s going to be lively times for me ahead. But 
I wouldn’t miss it, by thunder — I wouldn’t miss a bit 
of it. It beats bridge hollow.” 

“ Who is this, then? ” I asked, as the man with the 
brogue drifted towards us, a grin on his face. 

“ That, Ned,” said Wade, with exemplary gravity, 
lowering his voice, is yet another owner, and his name’s 
Byrne, but I fancy he hasn’t got a berth settled yet for 
himself.” 

Byrne came up with a friendly jest. He was of 
middle height, middle age, and broad of shoulder, and 
like so many of that odd company, he bore the signs 
of an open life, of a free and adventurous career, upon 
his face. 

“ It’s Grand Marnier that’s kept Clifford ashore,” 
he said with his pleasant Irish voice. “ He forgot it 
in London, and swore we’d not go without it. I doubt 
but there’s some bottles somewhere in Southampton.” 

A purser, or storekeeper, scouring the shops for a 
liqueur while his steamer snorted impatiently for him 
in the bay ! The picture struck me as so comical that 
I burst out laughing, and thus earned the smiling 
scrutiny of Byrne’s eyes. 


26 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ And a very tipple it is,” he continued. 

The delinquent came aboard sometime about two, 
rather a short man, fat and red of face, with coal- 
black, sparkling eyes and a ready tongue. He stood 
the chaff and remonstrances of his friends with imper- 
turbable good humour. He cracked back at Byrne. 

“ Go on, you won’t get any, my buck.” And to Mar- 

“ Keep your hair on, chummy. I didn’t know yooir 
blamed boat was due to sail so soon. We’ve got to 
wait for the provender. It’s coming along.” 

“ What the devil ” began Marley raucously, but 

Clifford shut him up. 

‘‘ Oh, well, you can go without it if you like.” 

“What did you get, Jacko.-^ ” inquired Byrne with 
interest. 

Clifford tapped off the items on his fingers cheer- 
fully. “ Twenty cases of ‘ the boy,’ thirty dozen port, 
a consignment of whisky and rum.” 

“ Good, man ! ” ej aculated Byrne. 

“ Rum ! ” said the boatswain grumblingly. “ That’s 
the third lot of rum you ordered. Why didn’t you get 
some decent claret or burgundy ? ” 

“ Look here, we’ll have this blooming ship a keg of 
rum,” burst in Marley. “ I’ll be damned if we won’t, 
at this rate. And if I was Halliday, I’d stop it 
all.” 

Clifford made an ugly face at him. “ Well, cockie, 
you’re not, and Halliday ’s not dux here either. We’ve 
got a new captain, I’m told. Where’s he.? ” 


THE WRECK 


27 


Wade was not there, but communications between 
Clifford and his friends resulted in his recognising my 
presence. 

“ Are you chief greaser ” he said amiably, and ob- 
viously with no intention of affront. 

“ I believe deck-lubbers call it that,” I replied in the 
same vein. 

“ Ho, here’s a wit, man,” he declared aloud, and 
turned about as if to call Byrne. I could see that he 
had been drinking ashore, but he was only merry. Yet 
as I looked at his dark red countenance I had an idea 
that he might be quarrelsome in his cups. His eye was 
full of energy and glanced mischievously. It was, or 
seemed to me, a tricky eye. 

The only man of that gang of owners who was not 
in evidence was Davenant, who had been appointed sec- 
ond officer. He went about his duties unostentatiously, 
and I heard his soft, ladylike voice raised a little now 
and then with polite orders to the crew. What the 
crew made of their masters was more than I could tell, 
but I would have given much to learn. Halliday was 
not on deck. 

We got off at last towards dusk in a light mist which 
came up the Water and increased as we advanced. And 
on that several of the owners retired to the saloon to 
celebrate the event. Davenant stuck to his post, and 
so did Marley, who growled out his misgivings in my 
ear. 

“ ’Tisn’t the game,” he said. “ It’s not the clean 
potato. Drink when you drink, and work when you 


28 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


work. I’ve lived a number of years and learnt some- 
thing, old man, and you can take my tip for it that that 
spells mischief. I don’t mind a good beano myself at 
the right time, but it’s not now. How’s she go, Mr. 
Davenant.? ” 

Wade was on the bridge, with what I may assume to^ 
be an astonished pilot; and the Duncannon was walk- 
ing slowly out of the Water. 

The mist with the dusk in it was all about us, and 
we went at a very slow pace, the engines at quarter 
speed. I was below most of the time, and so was not 
acquainted with what happened on deck. I was aware 
only of loud voices, and supposed that the “ owners ” 
had fallen out among themselves. Perhaps they were 
fighting over the berth of boatswain. But presently I 
had a message from above that took me on to the bridge 
in consultation with the captain. He wanted to know 
one or two things. 

“ You say your men are all right,” he said; “ I wish 
I could say the same of mine. Anyway, tell me, where’s 
Halliday? He’s got to know a thing or two about the 
boat. Hear that now.^^ It’s those swine in the saloon. 
How are your engines ^ ” 

“ She’s a bone-shaker,” I said tersely. 

“ Thought so. She’s been chartered on the 
cheap, or bought maybe. It’s this craze for one- 
ship companies. But what do you make of 
them? ” 

“ I’m puzzled,” I replied. ‘‘ I fancy Marley.” 

“ My chief,” he said, with a short laugh. “ He can 


THE WRECK 


29 


turn his hand to many things, I’ll lay, and make shift 
to do ’em. He’s all right up to a point, and he’s decent. 
Hear that again Davenant knows more about a ship. 
I shouldn’t wonder if he was a sailor. But that doctor 
man fairly gets on me. I’ll have him in irons if he 
doesn’t look out. Mr. Marley,” he left off talking to 
me to thunder down to the deck, “ I’ll be obliged if 
you’ll have that damned noise stopped. By gad. I’ll 
have ’em all locked up and landed in Plymouth if this 
goes on.” 

Marley ’s voice came back to us from the afterpart of 
the Duncannon, which was rolling in the larger tideway. 

“ This old gal’s about equal to her engines,” com- 
mented Wade. “ She’s a porpoise. Ned, better get 
back to your room. It’s safer. Halloa! What the 
devil’s that.? ” 

At that moment there evidently emerged from the 
saloon the three revellers, who had been drinking good- 
luck to the voyage in the most inauspicious manner. 
Halliday had shut himself in his cabin, as I afterwards 
learned, and was nothing less than sea-sick. The sound 
of laughter came up to us. 

“ I’ll make ’em laugh on the other side of their mugs 
before I’ve done with them,” said Wade grimly. “ Get 
along, Ned.” 

I descended, and ran up against the trio, of whom 
Byrne was the most jovial. He took my arm, as I 
would have passed, and offered me a drink. 

“ We’ve left a bit over in the saloon, old cock,” he 
said. “ A merry heart goes all the way.” 


30 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


I shook myself free. “ If I were you, Mr, Byrne,” I 
said, “ I would take an off-time.” 

“ Oh, don’t talk through your hat,” said the store- 
keeper genially. “We don’t start on a cruise like this 
every day.” 

“ Damn it, you’ve got my tobacco, Clifford,” said 
McLeod, feeling in his pockets. “ This is a damn rotten 
boat,” he added viciously. “ I’d hke to rub Halliday’s 
nose in it.” 

“ Why, what could you expect when he ” Chfford 

began, but was silenced by a sharp dig on the elbow 
from Byrne. “Oh, what’s the odds?” said Chfford 
recklessly. “ Silence is golden — so’s a heap of other 
things. I don’t take much stock in silence.” 

“ You’ve been taking too much stock in fizz, Jacko,” 
said the Irishman easily. “ Come along with you.” 
He took his arm, and they were moving on, when the 
siren suddenly shrieked in a wheeze on the darkness. 

“ Halloa ! We’re ashore,” said Clifford hghtly. 

“ What’s up ? ” said McLeod. 

The siren shrieked again. “ It’s the fog,” said Byrne. 

I put my head into the engine-room. “ Ease her, 
Collins,” I called, and the screw’s vibration became in- 
dividually distinguishable in the throbbing deck. The 
veil of mist enveloped us, but it was not so thick now, 
appearing only as a faint gauze on the twilight water. 
The siren screamed again. 

“Back her!” thundered Wade through the tube; 
and Collins reversed with the jerk of a steel wrist. 

There was the slightest sensation of touching some- 


THE WRECK 


31 


thing, a cry, and then an uproar on deck. I ran to the 
side, and peered over into the dim sea, which was churn- 
ing below. The old tramp was now almost at a stand- 
still; but drifting fast along her dull iron side, knock- 
ing as she did so, was a small sailing boat, yawl-rigged, 
and of some size. The continued motion of the Dun- 
cannon, as, in obedience to her momentum, she forged 
through the water, threw off the yawl, as it were with 
a kick, and it overturned, hurling the occupants into 
the sea. Immediately one of our sailors threw a couple 
of life-buoys overboard, and Marley trailed a line. One 
figure was visible, clinging to the upturned keel, and 
the rope reached him. He was drawn aboard, and as 
well as he could for the water he had swallowed, ex- 
plained the situation. There was an old man over- 
board, and 

Marley waited to hear no more, but had sprung 
overboard forthwith, and there was a rush to the bul- 
warks to watch. We could just see his head, a patch 
of darkness, on the water, moving here and there for 
some time, and then, just as the boat Wade had ordered 
to be lowered touched the water, he called out. 

« Right O ! ” 

The boat shot off towards the sound, and we on deck 
heard now the noise of commingling voices; and pres- 
ently the boat returned, bringing Marley and the per- 
son he had rescued. So soon as they were aboard, under 
the light of a lamp, Wade uttered an exclamation. 

“ The Frenchman, or I’m a Dutchman ! ” 

It was the Frenchman beyond doubt, a very damp, 


S2 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


dishevelled, and disreputable-looking Frenchman, “ like 
a drowned mouse,” as Byrne said. 

‘‘ What on earth were you doing out here in a fog.^^ ” 
demanded Wade with scant ceremony. 

The old man extended his dripping arms. “ It was 
an accident. I will explain some time — not, not now,” 
he said pantingly. ‘‘We took a boat ” 

An idea flashed in my brain. I could not tell you 
why that picture of the tall slim girl came back to me 
at that moment. It did. 

“We!” I exclaimed quickly. “Was there anyone 
else — ^your daughter.? ” 

He looked round, as if searching for someone. “ It 
is my niece,” he said vaguely. 

“ Good God 1 There’s a girl in the water,” I cried, 
and, obeying an impulse which I had not time to ques- 
tion, I jumped into the sea. 

I swam in the direction in which I supposed the 
derelict would be. The sea was not very rough, but 
it was very cold, which, of course, is the invariable 
danger to a strong swimmer; but I was very sound of 
body and arm. It was sometime before I made the 
wreck, but nothing else was visible, and there was no 
sign of the girl. I pushed off and quested round in a 
circle, peering into the dusk, but nothing greeted my 
eyes, save the tumbling, noisy water. I swam for some 
time longer, and then when I had come to the conclu- 
sion that the worst had happened, and that all hope 
must be abandoned, I was hailed from the dis- 
tance. 


THE WRECK 


S3 


I answered back, and I recognised a man’s voice. I 
turned towards it, and presently a boat emerged and 
came to a pause by me. 

“ Come along in, old man,” said Marley’s voice* 
“ It’s all right.” 

“Is she safe.f^” I asked as I clambered into the 
boat. 

“ Yes,” said Marley. “ She got hold of a buoy. 
God’s own luck, wasn’t it? The old man found 
her.” 

“ What, Captain Wade? ” I asked in surprise. 

“ Yes ; followed our example, and took a little bathing 
excursion. She wasn’t far behind in the drift of the 
ship. The tide makes that way.” 

I made no remark till we reached the DuncannoTty 
and not then until, as we went up the side, Clifford 
greeted me. 

“ You’re a day behind the fair, old cock. What a 
lot of heroes we’ve aboard! Damned if I don’t feel 
like a gold medallist of the Royal Humane Society my- 
self!” 

“ Bravo, greaser ! ” came from the other side. 

I was angry, I was disappointed; perhaps it was 
petty; and I certainly should have remembered dis- 
cipline. I turned myself, recognised McLeod, and took 
him straight between the eyes with my fist. He dropped 
with an oath, and I passed on to the engine-room 
through the astonished crowd. 

“ Half speed,” bawled Wade through the tube. Col- 
lins put the lever over. 


CHAPTER III 


THE JOB LOT 

I MET Wade on his way to change his wet clothes, and 
he grinned at me. 

“ Well, we’ve made tolerable fools of ourselves,” he 
observed. It was just the little swagger that became 
him, and I knew he was pleased with himself. He 
felt, I was certain, important; whereas I only felt 
silly. 

“ I don’t think it was the captain’s place to leave 
his ship,” I remarked jestingly. 

“No, nor the chief engineer’s either; nor the first 
officer’s, eh.? Good Lord!” He threw up his hands 
and shook the sea water from his arms. “ This is a 
mad cruise, Ned.” 

“ Yes,” I assented. “We seem to have got touched 
also. We’ve all begun of a piece — a mad crew and a 
mad cruise.” 

“ Rum thing, that little weasel turning up,” said he. 

“ I don’t think so,” I rejoined. “ He meant to.” 

“How’s that.? What are you getting at.?” he 
asked. 

“ Why, it’s pretty plain. He wanted to ship with 
us. This isn’t merely an accident. Coincidences don’t 
turn up that way. He was set on the Duncannon.^* 

“ Why in the name of Holy Moses does any sane 
34 


THE JOB LOT 


35 


person want to travel on this old crock? ” he de- 
manded. 

“ More than I can tell ; but he did.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned if he will,” said Wade; “I’ll 
run him ashore at Plymouth.” 

He disappeared below, and I turned also to go down, 
when Clifford came up. 

“ I say, V.C., there’ll be a row on with McLeod,” he 
said in his habitual voice, which seemed to have a chuckle 
in it. “ You gave him a sharp one on the conk, and 
tapped burgundy.” 

“ Look here, Mr. Clifford,” I said, “ I’m tired of this 
ship and company already, and if Dr. McLeod, or any- 
one for the matter of that, save my official superior, 
interferes with me. I’ll do worse than dirty his face.” 

I stared him straight in the eyes, but his never lost 
their implicit smile that was the undercurrent of his 
face. They were glassy and shining, and expressed 
nothing I could read. 

“ This is muscular Christianity,” he answered. 
“ Save us, dear boy ! arma virumque cano. And talk- 
ing of arms, let’s have a feel of yours.” 

Quite unabashed, he put out a hand and seized my 
forearm, which I slowly stiffened. I did not resent his 
action. He was a cad of some kind, yet he quoted 
Virgil, and sonorously too. I could not guess at him. 
But I was showing him something now which was worth 
all the repartees. 

“ Gosh ! ” he said. “ Nebuchadnezzah ! What an 
arm! I’ll trouble you to remember I’m not McLeod; 


36 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


and as he’s a particular friend of mine, I’ll hurry up 
and give him warning. You ought to put up a notice- 
board, Herapath. Trespassers will be boko’ed. So 
long ! ” 

He moved off with the waddling gait which was not 
a sailor’s, and I got to my cabin at last. I cared noth- 
ing if I had made McLeod my enemy; I only wanted 
to ensure decent treatment for myself from this remark- 
able job lot of adventurers. As a matter of fact, I 
heard and saw nothing of McLeod for some time, but 
understood that he was attending the girl who had been 
so opportunely rescued. Though she had clung to the 
buoy, she was suffering from immersion and the shock, 
and needed medical advice. It was Wade who told me 
this later in the evening. Neither he nor I had dined in 
the saloon along with the others owing to the necessity 
of being at our posts; but we had food together later, 
and here I learned the result of Wade’s interrogation of 
the boatman. 

“ There’s not much sense in his head,” said the cap- 
tain, “ but I can’t make out why he ventured into the 
Solent in a fog and late like that. He says the old gen- 
tleman wouldn’t take a denial, wanted to get across to 
the Isle of Wight — Ryde. But it was a rum way of 
getting across on a dark, cold evening. Why not have 
taken the ordinary steamer ? ” 

“ He didn’t want the Isle of Wight,” I said. 

Wade eyed me. “ You appear to have made up your 
mind,” he observed. 

“ Doesn’t it stand to reason ? ” I asked. ‘‘ We find 


THE JOB LOT 


37 


the man anxious to sail with us ; he importunes you for 
a passage, and is refused. He is referred to the Ham- 
burg line, due to-day. But he doesn’t take advantage 
of that ; and we pick him up at the mouth of the Water, 
lying in our way.” 

Wade was thoughtful. “ Well, we’ll interview him 
presently,” he said, resuming his meal. 

We interviewed him when we had finished, but dis- 
covered quite another man from the person who had 
begged for a passage. When he entered, and I saw 
him under the better light, he wore no longer that look 
of distress which I had noticed before. He was calm, 
collected, and even showed assurance, as he made us a 
dignified bow. He had the air of a gentleman, even of 
one of some distinction, with his high brow, and his long, 
narrow fingers. 

“ I thank you, messieurs, for your great courtesy 
and courage in the rescue of my niece,” he said in a 
gracious way. 

“ Sit down, sir,” said Wade, pointing to a chair. ‘‘ I 
hope you’re not suffering from the effects of your duck- 
ing, and that your niece is recovering. Mr. Herapath 
and myself are only too pleased if we have been of any 
assistance to a lady.” That was like Wade; he waved 
aside thanks with the lordly air of one superior to them ; 
and he turnod a compliment to a nicety where a woman 
was concerned. Then the other side of his character 
emerged. “ But what I can’t understand, sir, is what 
you were doing out there in a small yacht on such a 
night.” 


38 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ We were crossing to Ryde,” said the old gentleman. 

He sat upright now, as if prepared for a cross-ex- 
amination, and he eyed his interrogator firmly. He 
was sixty, I guessed, and his Gallic beard was white, 
and he showed above it tense, narrow lips. 

“ On such a night ” said Wade carelessly. 

The old man bowed. ‘‘ It was imperative I should be 
in Ryde this evening.” 

His shaking was doubtless responsible for his slip, of 
which Wade took immediate advantage. 

“ I’m sorry we can’t put in there for you. You must 
be content to wait,” he said. “ But I can promise to 
land you at Plymouth to-morrow evening.” Consterna- 
tion broke out in the man’s face, and he almost rose from 
his chair. 

“ Pardon,” he said, relapsing into French in his 
emotion. “ I do not desire now to go to Ryde. It is 
too late ; the opportunity is past.” And then recurring 
to English, but broken English : “ I ’ave miss ze 

chance by zis time. It is no good.” 

Wade considered, fingering a pen. “ I’m sorry,” he 
said. “ But you are aware the accident was not our 
fault.? ” 

“ Oh no, no,” he ventured to exclaim eagerly. “ You 
were not responsible. It was my fault entirely — I take 
the blame. I absolve you.” 

“ That’s all right,” said Wade calmly. “ Then we’ll 
part to-morrow morning good enough friends, eh, and 
with no grudges.? ” 

The Frenchman had opened his mouth to speak, but 


THE JOB LOT 


39 


by an effort controlled himself. A slight pallor crept 
into his face, and when he did speak he was evidently 
agitated. 

‘‘ I will be frank with you, sir,” he said. ‘‘ As I have 
missed my appointment in Ryde to-night, it is no use to 
me to go back. Therefore I shall proceed at once to 
America.” He glanced about the cabin with ill-sup- 
pressed excitement. “ This is a nice vessel, and I will 
propose to you that I continue with you to Baltimore, 
did I not hear ? ” 

“ That is impossible,” said Wade. “ We have no 
room for passengers.” 

“ But I will be content with any accommodation,” 
pleaded the old man. “ I am not difficult. I am an old 
traveller.” 

“ There is your niece,” said Wade. 

“ She too is accustomed to — what you say — rough 
it,” he urged. “ She is a good girl, and would enjoy 
the voyage — the experience.” 

“ It can’t be done, monsieur,” said Wade relentlessly. 
He could be bluff as any old-time salt, hard as any 
marline-spike, when he wished. 

The Frenchman rose now from his seat, and his com- 
fortable assurance had fallen away from him; once 
more his hands trembled, and once more I experienced 
that vague sentiment of pity. But it did not enter 
Wade’s heart. 

“ Monsieur,” he pleaded, “ my name is Carvaulx, 
Jean Carvaulx, and I am a banker in Paris, Marseilles, 
elsewhere. Monsieur has heard the name? It is well 


40 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


known.” He paused anxiously, but Wade made no 
sign. “ I will pay willingly for this service. You will 
call it what you say — a rich man’s freak, fancy, eh.? ” 

Again he paused anxiously, and this time Wade 
answered. “ This ship is what is known as a tramp, 
and we cannot carry passengers.” 

Carvaulx’s face in a sudden was haggard and worn. 
He glanced wearily at me. “ There was another gentle- 
man ” he began falteringly, when the cabin door 

opened, and Halliday entered, lank and dishevelled, and 
sickly of aspect. 

“ I hear you’ve had an accident, captain,” he said 
with an evident assumption of cheerfulness. “ I’m glad 
it was no worse. I presume this is the gentleman whom 
we had the misfortune to upset.” 

He turned to M. Carvaulx, who was regarding him 
with a change of face. 

“ It was all our fault,” said the Frenchman, with a 
bow. 

“ Well, I’m sorry anyway,” said Halliday, “ and 
we’ll put you ashore as soon as ever we can, and ” 

“ Pardon,” said the old man, as he had said it to 
Wade. “ I ask for a passage, for which I pay.” 

Halliday hesitated. “ We ain’t a passenger boat,” 
he said. 

“ Pardon. I understand everything. It is my 
whim, mine and my niece’s. I will pay the passage fare 
— ^what you will.” He spoke in an indifferent, lordly 
manner. 

“ Well, I guess this is a little unexpected compliment 


THE JOB LOT 


41 


to the Duncarmoriy eh, captain? ” said Halliday, with a 
laugh. 

“ Monsieur,” pursued the Frenchman, following up 
his advantage, “ if monsieur would allow us to discuss 
this matter in private, monsieur and I might arrange 
terms.” 

“ Well, we can try anyway,” said Halliday, smiling. 

When they were gone Wade turned to me. “ This 
looks like a deal, Ned. Our American friend has 
greedy eyes. Well, it’s their affair. I can’t promise 
them a prosperous voyage, but I think I can a lively 
one.” 

“ We’re all mad,” I said ; “ you and I are affected.” 

He rose. “ It’s a lark,” he said indifferently. “ Feel 
that? It shivers my timbers every time she gets her 
nose ever so little down. I suppose I’d better see how 
the young lady is progressing.” 

I followed him, and we descended into the saloon, off 
which the cabins opened. In one of these the girl had 
been installed. McLeod emerged as we reached the 
door. His brows drew down at the sight of me. 

“ Miss Sylvester is going on nicely, but she’s had a 
shock,” he said. “ On my advice she will not get up 
to-night.” 

Wade nodded, and turned, and as the doctor passed 
me he said something in an undertone. 

“ I’ll have it out with you yet, by God.” 

‘‘Don’t you think we’re square now?” I returned 
pacifically. 

He swore fiercely. “ No,” he said. 


42 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


I shrugged my shoulders. “ Very well,” I said, and 
left him. The Frenchman came tumbling down the 
companion as I went up, alert and cheerful, and I 
knew he had got his way even before I met HalHday on 
deck. 

“ Mr. Herapath,” said he in his quick manner, “ that 
gentleman’s staying. We can’t afford to lose good 
money.” 

“ Isn’t it a bit odd.?^ ” I replied. 

“ I don’t take much stock in the usual,” he answered. 
“His dollars are good enough for me; I’ve no use for 
him any other way. Seems a bright-headed sort of 
chap.” 

“ He’s clever,” I assented. “ There’s his dome to let 
you know it.” 

“ Say, Mr. Herapath,” he went on, lowering his 
voice, “ there’s bad blood, they tell me, between you and 
the doctor. He’s a tough, is the doctor, and I don’t 
exactly ask you to lie down and be eaten, but if you 
could manage to pull together for a while, why I’d take 
it kindly, and it would be nice all round.” 

He put it pohtely, and I liked him for it. I don’t 
believe he had any temper to lose himself ; he had a clear, 
calculating eye, and his only emotion was a fine frenzy 
of enthusiasm over an idea. 

“ I will do my best,” I told him, “ but the circum- 
stances are unusual. You know better than I do, Mr. 
Halliday, that this is a queer trip.” 

His glance sharply questioned me, but I do not sup- 
pose he saw much in my expression. 


THE JOB LOT 


43 


“ I guess I know what you mean,” he said. “ The 
owners are a mixed lot. So they are; but they have 
shares. And they had this fancy to take the voyage. 
I thank you for your promise; and now, as I’m not feel- 
ing anyways well. I’ll just lie down.” He departed, 
as ill a man as I had seen, for the sea had grown 
choppy. I verily believe that it was game of him to 
emerge in the crisis. He knew his associates, and was 
aware that responsibility rested on him. Halliday was 
grit all through when it came to his spirit. It was his 
physique that was against him. 

By ten o’clock next morning we were off Plymouth, 
for the engines were banging her along, and Wade was 
on the bridge when I came on deck for some air. He 
beckoned me to join him, and I did so. 

“ I say, Ned,” he broke out, without greeting, “ she’s 
a stunner.” 

“ The Duncannon? ” said I drily. 

“ Be damned,” said he. “ Our young guest there. 
Miss Sylvester. She’s a regular clinker. I saw her 
this morning, when she insisted on thanking me prettily 
for hauling her out of the water. I don’t know but I’m 
glad Halliday’s taken the old josser along.” 

“ We are a mixed lot,” said I. 

That’s life,” he returned. “ What’s the odds ? 
Ned, keep an eye on that doctor. He’s a gorilla. He 
savages. I believe he’s fey.” 

“ Oh no, he’s not,” I answered. “ He’s only a Scot- 
tish barbarian. I’ll comb his hair if he needs it.” 

“ It’s a pity you had that row,” he said thoughtfullyc 


44 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ It’s only part of the fun, isn’t it? ” I said signifi- 
cantly ; and he laughed. 

“ Oh, I don’t mind,” he replied as he looked towards 
the land. “ We’ve got to drop that ancient mariner.” 

“ But the ancient bird we keep,” I said. 

‘‘ And the niece,” he added to that. 

He dropped the mariner and the pilot in safety inside 
the breakwater, while Monsieur Carvaulx looked on with 
shining eyes. It was as if he were congratulating him- 
self on his good fortune in not being landed. And as he 
leaned over the rail and watched, a figure stole to his 
side and looked landward also. I recognised her at 
once as the girl I had seen on the quay. She gave me 
one glance of meditative inquiry, and then addressed 
her uncle in French. For some time they remained 
chatting in good spirits, and once or twice a dry cackle 
sounded mirthlessly in the old man’s throat. He was dis- 
tinctive in appearance, but he was not prepossessing. On 
the other hand. Miss Sylvester (as her name appeared 
to be) fully justified Wade’s encomium. She was of a 
youthful slightness, but her slim body denoted vigour 
and energy, and her face was vivid and sparkling with 
interest. Her cheeks were flying a little colour, and the 
soft bronze of her hair took the fire of the morning sun. 
The screw began to churn in the water, the Duncannon 
turned her nose, and the Frenchman uttered a sigh — al- 
most as it seemed of contentment. His eyes were di- 
rected shoreward still, as if he watched for someone who 
never came, and watched with growing relief. 

I had transferred my attention from the niece to the 


THE JOB LOT 


45 


uncle for the moment, though she was the prettier pic- 
ture, but now I noticed that she was joined by McLeod, 
tall, sandy of head, and offhand of manner. He was in 
an amiable, jocund mood, quite different from the 
raging Scot I had seen on a previous occasion. He 
talked freely, and laughed loudly, and I could see that 
he was doing his best with the lady. Presently they be- 
gan to promenade the deck together, and she presented 
a beaming bright face to me as she came aft, talking 
merrily with her companion. I shrugged my shoul- 
ders, and looked over the taffrail at the receding hills 
and breakwater, and fell into a little mood of reflection. 
From this I was awakened by a voice, and found Miss 
Sylvester addressing me. McLeod stood some distance 
aft, with darkling brows. 

“ Mr. Herapath, isn’t it? ” she said prettily, holding 
out her hand. “ I have only just learned your identity. 
The captain told me of your brave conduct in jumping 
overboard to save me. Believe me, Mr. Herapath, I am 
deeply indebted to you, and I thank you from my 
heart.” 

It was phrased almost formally, but there was no 
mistake as to the cordiality of her tone. She spoke 
with great confidence, and also with earnestness. She 
was complete mistress of herself for so young a girl — 
for I judged her to be no more than twenty; and I 
thought I detected something un-English not only in 
her manner, but in her voice. And it was not quite 
explained by her French uncle. I took her hand and 
murmured my reply. She had done it prettily, and I 


46 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


believe, as I say, that she meant it; but I think any 
woman in those unusual circumstances of excite- 
ment and interest would have seemed and been in 
earnest. 

I only smiled, and apologised for not having found 
her. “ It was the only excuse for my absurd act,” I 
said, “ and it failed.” 

“ Oh, you mustn’t say that, Mr. Herapath,” she said, 
in a high, light voice, opening a pretty mouth and show- 
ing the even whiteness of her small teeth. “ You must 
let me think I was worth trying to save. Leave me in 
the delusion, anyway.” 

The deprecation was daintily attractive, and here I 
guessed at her. She was American. I felt sure of it 
as I examined her with a little closer interest. 

“ Ah, it was of myself I was thinking,” I said, 
smiling. “ It was absurd because unnecessary. The 
boat would have rescued you.” 

“ You couldn’t tell,” she said, and then glanced at the 
fading land. “ I would have given much to have landed 
in Plymouth for an hour, but uncle wouldn’t hear of it,” 
she said with regret in her voice. 

“ You would like to see it? ” I inquired. 

She shook her head. “No, I have been there before ; 
but, Mr. Herapath,” and she gave me a charming smile, 
again deprecatory, “ I wanted to shop. I could have 
put in quite a long time shopping. Do you realise, Mr. 
Herapath,” she pursued, laughing, “ that I have no 
clothes ? ” She fingered her handsome gown, which, I 
supposed, had been dried for her use overnight. I 


THEJOBLOT 47 

stared towards the old man, who was still looking land- 
ward, and I wondered. 

“ Well, I don’t suppose it will take us more than a 
fortnight to get to Baltimore,” I said, with an awkward 
attempt at consolation. 

“ A fortnight ! ” she echoed, and held up her hands 
in horror. “ Uncle said a week.” 

I shook my head. “ We’re no greyhound,” I ob- 
served, “ only a common limping tramp, and with 
neither fare nor equipments for young and fashionable 
ladies. But we’re going to do our best.” 

“ And I’m not going to make it hard for you,” re- 
turned Miss Sylvester, smiling. “ Just you go on in 
your own ways, and I’ll suit myself to the ship. I’m 
sorry uncle’s business put him in all this haste. I 
don’t understand business,” she added demurely. 

It sounded like “ pumping ” her, but I could not help 
saying: “He might have reached New York more 
easily by the German boat, and so got to Baltimore be- 
fore we shall.” 

“ My uncle,” said she doubtfully, “ would never go 
by a crowded boat. He hates crowds. It would have 
made him ill. He has been overworking, and has caused 
me a lot of anxiety. But he is better already.” She 
followed my eyes to the Frenchman. “ He has been 
much more like himself since he has been on board.” 

Certainly he had a more cheerful air; for at this 
moment he went down the deck briskly, and engaged 
McLeod, who was still waiting, in conversation. My 
companion, I was pleased to see, had obviously forgotten 


48 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


all about the doctor. She made no movement to get 
away, and I made some remark which drew her out. M. 
Carvaulx, I discovered, was a well-known banker, who 
had married her mother’s sister, and she had gone to live 
with her aunt and uncle after the death of her own 
parents in New York. That was ten years before, and 
her aunt had been dead some three years. Since 
then she had lived with her uncle and kept house for 
him. 

“ He is a great politician,” she explained to me rather 
proudly. “ All the great leaders come to his house, and 
artists and literary men too. It is very interesting. 1 
hope he will soon get better, and then when we get back 
to Paris we shall see all our old friends. But I’m glad 
I’m going to America again. I’ll have a lovely time 
seeing all the old places and all my old school friends. 
I’ve not been back since I was a little girl.” 

She babbled on frankly, and without the shghtest 
self-consciousness, and I was enabled to conjecture that 
with all her assurance she was but a child ; indeed, that 
her very assurance sprang from her unself-conscious- 
ness and ingenuousness. 

I had enjoyed our chat very much, but here it was 
abruptly interrupted. McLeod, having shaken off the 
Frenchman, bore down on us. To me he paid not the 
slightest attention, and addressed himself to my com- 
panion. 

“ Miss Sylvester, it’s time for your tonic,” he said 
with a proprietorial air that rasped my nerves. 

“ Why, I’d forgotten,” she said in a lively way. “ I 


THEJOBLOT 49 

don’t feel much like tonics, doctor. This air’s as good 
as any medicine.” * 

“ Pardon me,” he said ceremoniously. “ I think it is 
necessary. Will you allow me? ” 

He withdrew her towards the saloon companion, and 
I liked to fancy that she went with reluctance. 

“ Tonic ! ” said a voice in my ear, a voice that clipped 
each word with almost vicious decision. “ Tonic’s the 
notion. Caesar’s ghost. I’ll have some tonic myself. 
What do you say, V.C. ? ” 

It could only be Clifford, whose black-red grinning 
face met me as I turned. 

“ Vestigia nulla retrorsum! We’re off, Herapath, I 
guess we’re off, and we’ll drink a bumper to good-luck. 
Luck’s everything. There’s no God but Chance — 
Chance and the rhino, otherwise the oof. Luck and 
pluck will carry everything. Come along.” 

I was inclined to refuse, but I have a certain sense 
of prudence that comes to my aid in restraint of im- 
pulse. If I had knocked McLeod down, I might make 
amends towards this remarkable rapscallion. I could 
not place him. Every feature of his face spoke to a 
loose liver ; he had the relics at least of a classical knowl- 
edge, and a sense of language. He was both glib and 
deft of tongue ; and he appeared to be good-natured. 

“ It’s rather early,” I answered, “ but I don’t mind.” 
“ I’ve a mouth like a raw potato, and a tongue like a 
button-stick,” he quoted as he shambled along the deck. 
“ I’m the gentleman with the keys, like Peter. What’s 
your poison? Look here, we’ll have fizz.” 


50 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


He seized a bottle of champagne, drew the cork, and 
filled two tumblers. * 

“ A prosperous voyage ! ” I said, raising my glass. 

“ Here’s how,” he retorted, “ and to Eldorado ! ” 
His eyes twinkled at me over the glass, which he emptied 
at a draught. 

“ At it again, my boy,” called a cheerful Irish voice 
outside, and Byrne entered on the top of that. He was 
given a glass, and sat down on a barrel to drink it 
comfortably. Also presently there was drawn into our 
company Digby, my stage boatswain, with his proud 
but weary countenance. It was he who ventured a‘ criti- 
cism of the wine, and arguments were bandied about. 

“ Have a drink, monsieur,” called out Clifford in the 
thick of the disagreement. 

The face of the Frenchman was visible, passing along 
the passage. He hesitated. 

“ I thank you,” he said ; “ just a little glass for good 
fortune.” 

“ Fill moosoo one, Byrne,” said Clifford lazily. 

Here’s to good old Luck.” He emptied his third 
glass, and winked at me. 

“ A very successful voyage,” said Monsieur Carvaulx 
cautiously, raising his glass. “ May we sail prosper- 
ously into Baltimore.” 

“Baltimore!” CHfford bubbled out in a lower voice. 

Does the damfool stiU think he’s going to Baltimore.^ ” 
Byrne jogged him hard in the ribs. 

“ Steady,” he said, “ I’m not a professional pug, like 
Herapath. What’s the odds ? ” He laughed vacantly. 


THE JOB LOT 


51 


I passed out to go to my engine-room, for it was 
obvious that they would still sit and drink; and after 
all I had learned as much as I wanted to know just then, 
certainly as much as I was likely to learn after that 
warning jog. We were not bound for Baltimore. 
Then what the mischief was our destination, and what 
were we, anyway, as Halliday might have said.^ I can- 
not say that Wade supplied the answer to my riddle; 
he merely confirmed my discovery. When I met him on 
deck his face wore a curious smile. His eyes encoun- 
tered mine, and he laughed outright. 

“ Ned,” he said, “ the cream of the joke’s come. 
What do you guess I’ve just received sealed orders.” 
“ Sealed orders ! ” I echoed in amazement. 

“Yes; from Halliday. I’m to open them next 
Wednesday. What do you make of that.?* ” 

“ I’ve just discovered that we don’t go to Baltimore. 
Clifford’s let it out. What are you going to do? ” 

We stood musing, an unbroken envelope between his 
fingers. 

“Do?” he said at last. “Nothing. Everything. 
Anything you please. Great Scott, this beats ocean 
racing by chalks ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE THIRD DAY OUT 

Halliday made his appearance next morning, recov- 
ered from his sickness, but very pallid and shaky. He 
distributed politeness, however, like largesse, and seemed 
nervously anxious to be all things to all men. He was 
certainly not at home on board ship, and his stomach 
rose in revolt against the situation. His sprightly 
mind, however, struggled undaunted against all the 
embarrassments and disabilities of his body. He had 
presented Wade with sealed orders, and had come out of 
the seclusion and protection of his cabin to ‘‘ face the 
music.” 

“ You understand, captain, exactly what I mean 
to convey by that packet ? ” he asked anxiously, but 
firmly. 

Wade turned it over. “ I’m to open this three days 
from now,” he said. Halliday nodded. “ And, having 
been led to believe our destination was Baltimore, I shall 
here find another port indicated? ” he continued. 

“ The advantage of sealed orders, captain,” said the 
American, “ is that they talk, not me, and they talk at 
the right time? ” 

“ Of course, you know I can put her about and go 
back? ” said Wade slowly. 

Halliday’s long, thin fingers worked nervously. “ It 
52 


THE THIRD DAY OUT 


53 


would be within your legal rights,” he said. “ But I 
guess you won’t.” 

“ You’re right, I won’t,” said Wade, with a laugh. 
“ I see you wanted the sort of man you took me for.” 

“ Precisely, captain,” said Halliday ; “ and I put it 
to my credit that I took you for the sort of man you 
are. You’ve got to take risks all the way in life, and 
a man who don’t jump sometimes without looking the 
other side of the hedge is not going far. No, you fit us 
to a ‘ t,’ and I’m very well satisfied. I hope you are, 
captain ? ” 

“ I should be all the better satisfied,” said Wade in 
another voice, “ if there wasn’t so much drinking about. 
See here, Mr. Halliday, there’s some of these people I 
can’t interfere with — these owners of mine,” he said, 
with a sneer. “ There’s Mr. Byrne, and — well, I don’t 
know if Mr. McLeod is or is not ship’s doctor, but I 
assume Mr. Clifford’s the storekeeper and under my 
orders. And I want it clearly understood that I won’t 
have my men drunk or drinking.” 

“ How so, captain ? ” asked Halliday anxiously. 

“ Why, last night there was a merry party in Mr. 
Byrne’s cabin, and some of the stuff has got among the 
sailors — how, I don’t know. But I’m not going to have 
it. Grog has wrecked many a better ship than this; 
and I’m not going to have the grog tap on.” 

“ You’re right, captaim,” said Halliday. “ You’re 
right all the time.” 

“ In that case, what I propose is this,” pursued 
Wade. “ I don’t like the look of my owner, Mr. Clif- 


54 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


ford, and I’ll trouble him for the key of the wine cellar. 
That shall remain in your charge, as I signed on to you, 
and it is to you I look for orders. You’re responsible 
then, and I can come to you. How’s that.^* ” 

“ A good idea,” said Halliday approvingly. ‘‘ I’ll 
speak to Clifford, and take the key myself.” 

This, I discovered, was done, much to the dudgeon 
of the storekeeper, whose sharp tongue I overheard. 
He had realised it was through Wade’s action that he 
had been deprived of his opportunities, and he came as 
near being insubordinate as ever man that was not 
clapped in irons. Byrne was a good deal in his com- 
pany aU that day, and I think it was through Byrne’s 
influence that he did not actually break out into an 
open act of hostihty to the captain. But, oddly 
enough, he was himself again by night, and, with the con- 
tents of a bottle of whisky conceded by Halliday, was 
the centre of his little party as usual. McLeod was of 
this gang, and Digby at times, but never Davenant, and 
Marley but seldom. Now that he was at sea and at 
work the last was very business-like. He was still free 
and easy, and he had little idea of discipline, but he took 
a thorough interest in his duties, and made a very capa- 
ble first officer. Davenant was little in evidence, as 
navigating officer was a good deal in the chartroom, and 
otherwise held himself aloof. He was of a different 
class, I guessed, from his fellows, at least of a different 
training and association. He had almost the air of a 
schoolmaster, or a professor, and his dress was as 
immaculate as his voice. 


THE THIRD DAY OUT 


55 


The crew was decent enough, but was well sprinkled 
with foreigners, as one could perceive with an eye. 
There were only two of them whom I noticed much at 
this time, and that for a particular reason to which I 
will come. One was the steward. Heaven, a heavy- 
moving fellow with a face like pink wax, and glassy 
eyes. 

“ The chap’s been dead a fortnight,” said Marley of 
him. “Gosh! What a face!” 

“ A deuced fine simulacrum 1 ” laughed Clifford, and 
seemed to find him attractive as such. For this it was 
drew my attention more immediately. Clifford culti- 
vated the steward, hung about him in a friendly way, 
and was soon exchanging sallies with him in corners. 
Clifford had no conception of maintaining his own dig- 
nity ; he had none. He would hobnob with a chimney- 
sweep. He hobnobbed with Heaven. And once more 
he began to roll about the passage ways, plying his 
fluent tongue, and discharging his caustic vulgarisms. 
He was once more supplied with liquor, and I ought to 
have guessed its source. But I did not then, and it was 
only later that I discovered that the steward had a 
secret store. Byrne and Clifford would repair to his 
cabin, and share the private stock of his pantry, free 
from interference, indeed free from the knowledge of 
the captain; and McLeod was in the habit of joining 
them. But he was in a better frame just then, delight- 
ing to dance attendance on Miss Sylvester under the 
specious excuse that she needed medical supervision. 
As a matter of fact, she had completely recovered, and 


56 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


was just a very healthy and happy young girl, with no 
troubles on her mind, and nothing on her conscience. 
Her gaze was wayward ; her will was wanton. She liked 
exercising her splendid fascinations, or at least I 
thought so. McLeod’s devotion pleased her, lank and 
ugly as he was ; but I cannot say that she favoured him 
more than any other of us. She was like a child, de- 
lighting in her own beauty, almost without consciousness 
of it. It was instinctive. 

The other man, to whom I have alluded, was a tall, 
unseemly fellow, with bold eyes that looked insult at 
you, and with an indifferent, rough voice. He did his 
work well, but his insolent carriage was an offence, 
which made me wonder why Heaven had taken him 
into his favour. The two were frequently together 
forward ; the “ simulacrum ” with his uncanny sug- 
gestion of disease and decay singularly contrasted 
with the lean, bold mark of interrogation that was 
Crashaw. 

But the steward’s store was not the widow’s . cruse, 
and that fact brought about the first crisis of our voy- 
age. Halliday had by now gained his sea-legs, and 
recaptured his assurance. He was never in doubt of 
himself now, and dealt his favours all round liberally, 
paying specially courteous attentions to Miss Sylvester, 
whom he claimed as a compatriot. He had not the air 
of a suitor, but rather of an obedient henchman, as if 
in her he did honour to the American woman. 

“ I guess we raise a fine creature out there,” he told 
me as we conversed on deck. He had just left Miss 


THE THIRD DAY OUT 


57 


Sylvester, who had joined her uncle in a promenade, and 
he was following her with his eyes. “ There’s beauty 
enough knocking about these old islands of yours, Mr. 
Herapath, but for style I’ll back the United States. 
Not but what a European residence rubs up a bit of 
extra polish,” he added meditatively. 

Then he turned to the sea. ‘‘ Say, we’re getting on 
pretty well,” he remarked complacently. ‘‘ We’re get- 
ting on like a happy family, eh? ” 

As he spoke there was a noise behind us, and we 
turned about, to see McLeod and Clifford emerging 
tumultuously from the companion ladder. They came 
out on deck in a sort of scuffle, laughing uproariously. 

“ Yes ; a happy family,” I said drily. 

Halliday saw my meaning. “ Well, they don’t get 
much now,” he observed, puckering his brows. 

I had begun to suspect the steward by this time, and 
so I remarked: 

“ Not from the ship’s cellars.” 

He looked at me quickly with his alert eyes. “ Do 
you think they get it somewhere else ? ” 

“Look at them,” said I; and he looked. Clifford 
was making an ineffectual attempt to bash in McLeod’s 
hat — ineffectual because of his short stature. “ If 
they go on,” I added, “ they’ll have the captain down 
on them.” 

“ I’ll look into this,” said Halliday promptly, and 
wandered off towards the men. 

I feared he would get worsted in any encounter with 
two such “ toughs,” but I wished him luck. He joined 


58 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


them, received a facetious dig in the ribs from Clifford, 
and began to talk. A few minutes later he had taken 
them round the deckhouse, and I lost sight of them. I 
was left wondering if he had succeeded in taming those 
undisciplined animals. Then I went down to my 
engines. 

I did not come on deck again till it was dusk. A cold 
wind came off the sea, which was still and dark, and I 
buttoned my coat closer. It was a change from the 
v/armth of the engine-room. In the half light I per- 
ceived Miss Sylvester walking to and fro, and when 
she came near to me she laughingly explained that she 
was taking a constitutional. I saw no one else on deck 
at this time. The evening dropped on us quickly, and 
a hand climbed up from the lower deck with lights. As 
he did so I heard voices away aft, and suddenly a cry 
of alarm. 

It was a woman’s voice, and, of course. Miss Syl- 
vester’s. 

I ran back as it was repeated, and when I came up 
with the dark figures I could discern, her voice rang 
with anger and indignation and dismay all in one. 

“ How dared you ? Oh, you ” 

I took in the scene, and putting my arm about the 
man’s waist, tore him away from her and threw him 
against the deckhouse with a bang. Then I turned my 
attention to the girl. She w^as frightened and she was 
furious. 

“ How dared he — the brute ! ” she panted. 

He had had his arm about her, but I did not know 


THETHIRDDAYOUT 59 

how far his outrage had gone. He lay still where"! 
had thrown him. 

“ How dared he — the wretched Oh, I wish he 

were dead ! ” she cried, the tears of mortification and 
shame in her eyes. She stamped her foot. 

I apologised. “ The beast was in liquor,” I told her. 
“ He didn’t know what he was doing.” 

I led her away, soothed her rumpled feelings, poor 
child, and finally she descended to her cabin, forgetting 
to thank me. Her agitation was the revolt of the 
maiden against the coarse contact of sex. 

I went back aft, and found Clifford sitting up. 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he said sillily, and felt his 
head. He stared at me. “Was that you.^ ” he asked. 

“ A small instalment,” I said shortly. 

He put out a hand, and steadying himself by the 
deckhouse, got to his feet. 

“ I’ll take a bill at sight of it, please,” he said, and 
laughed uneasily. “ Great Cassar ! I thought it was 
the Day of Judgment.” 

“ This ship is too small for your talents, Mr. Clif- 
ford,” I said. “ If I were you I should quit at Balti- 
more, or wherever it is we are bound for. If I might 
suggest a better career than storekeeper for you, I 
would say lion comique. The music-hall stage is your 
proper platform.” 

“ Strike me, I leave the field,” said he. “ I’m not 
starting. Left at the post, my warrior. Avast I 
Belay! Ship ahoy! Where’s that damned doctor.? 
Lord, I’ve got a head. I forgot your sledgehammers.” 


60 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


He staggered off towards the hatchway, with his in- 
credible cheerfulness and indifference, and I stood con- 
sidering him. He was an unpleasant cad with all the 
vices, but his insuperable amiability surely redeemed 
him a little. I could not feel as angry with him as I 
should have felt with McLeod. And the man was 
drunk. My thoughts went to Halliday and his hope- 
less task. He had evidently had no success. I de- 
scended into the saloon, and there were Byrne, McLeod, 
and Digby listening to a blasphemous and lurid account 
of my onslaught. 

“Only one damned kiss ! What a condemned lot of 
fuss over a kiss ! It’s not blame well worth it. I don’t 
buy kisses at that price, my masters. McLeod, where 
the hell’s that sticking plaster.? ” 

“ Serve you blank well right,” growled the angry 
Scot. “ A little cad like you insulting a lady ! ” 

“ Steady on, Mac, or I’ll put the V.C. on to you,” 
threatened the unabashed Clifford. “ Keep your hair 
on, and get me something to keep mine on. Here, 
Heaven, where the Heaven’s that whisky.? Now, fetch 
out the fizz, Byrne, like a good chap.” 

I heard no more, for I turned out of the saloon, un- 
observed by them, but I had heard enough to know that 
the resources of their cellar were not exhausted, and I 
wondered. I had not been more than five minutes in 
my cabin when there was a rap, and Wade’s face was 
poked through the door. 

“ What’s all this I hear about Clifford’s insulting 
Miss Sylvester.? ” he asked bluntly. 


THE THIRD DAYOUT 61 

‘‘ He was drunk,” said I, going on with the adjust- 
ment of my tie. 

“ Drunk ! ” he echoed. “ Damn it, I thought we’d 
stopped all that.” He paused. “ So you came the 
knight-errant, Ned, eh? ” 

“ I had to get even with you, you see,” I said lightly. 

A smile shadowed his eyes. “ All right. Well, we 
don’t want any more gallant deeds aboard ; at least, I 
hope not. I’m getting sick of that gang.” 

“ They’ve got a private supply somewhere,” I told 
him. 

“ I must see Halliday again,” he remarked after a 
pause. “ Come up now. Here’s a young lady looking 
for you to thank you for your kind offices.” 

So that was how he knew. I followed him on deck, and 
he jocularly presented me. “ Here’s the hero. Miss 
Sylvester, with all his blushing honours thick upon 
him.” 

I wished him in — ^well, in the hold. 

She put her hand on my arm. ‘‘ Mr. Herapath, it’s 
just wonderful of you, and I can’t say anything more 
than that. I can’t forgive myself for running off with- 
out thanking you.” Her hand trembled on my arm, 
and it was plain she had not got over her agitation. 

‘‘ I’m glad I was at hand,” I said. “ And I’m glad 
it was my privilege to crack the blackbeetle, not Cap- 
tain Wade’s.” 

He uttered a little laugh. “ So am I,” she said with 
something like her characteristic gamesomeness ; “ and 
as for what you call the blackbeetle ” 


6 ^ 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I’ll clap him in irons,” said Wade sharply. “ 1 
won’t have vermin like that loose, tramp or no tramp.” 

“ Is that you, captain ” called a voice through the 
darkness. 

Halliday came up. “ I want to see you, captain,” 
he said, with evident excitement. “ Come along now. 
Mr. Herapath’s a friend of yours, isn’t he.^ Yes, I 
gues's he’s all right. I’d like both of you. Oh, good- 
evening, Miss Sylvester. It’s a right down fine even- 
ing, isn’t it, and there’s a good moon on the way up.” 

He spoke hurriedly, and his address to her was ob- 
viously most perfunctory. He was anxious to get us 
away. .Two minutes later we were in the deck cabin 
which he used as an office. He waved to some seats with 
what remained of his ceremoniousness. 

“ Sit right down. Now, I’ve got to tell you some- 
thing rather curious,” he went on quickly — “ some- 
thing I daresay that you’ll say you ought to have known 
before. Well, you can blame me for that if you like. 
I’ve got to tell it now. I made up my mind right 
away.” He fidgeted with the papers on the table, and 
was -displaying every sign of mental disturbance, but 
his eyes were bright and eager, as if his spirit still dom- 
inated proudly a tottering house. “ You’ve got to 
know, captain, and I guess Mr. Herapath here might as 
well know too. I don’t know anything about the 
others. I ain’t sure anything about them. Anyway, 
they know enough to go on with, and you don’t. I’m 
figuring out it isn’t fair to you.” He glanced at us 
questioningly, and resumed. 


THETHIRDDAYOUT 63 

“ You got an envelope there, captain, and there’s 
something inside it.” 

“ Sealed orders,” said Wade shortly. “ To be 
opened latitude ” 

“ Well, I guess we won’t bother about that, and after 
what I say, you needn’t open it at all. Say, what do 
you suppose this ship’s after ” 

“ I understood from the principal owner,” said Wade, 
drily, “ that she was a tramp laden for Baltimore.” 

“ Oh, Twenty-three ! ” said Halliday, with a small 
laugh. “ Let’s quit that, captain. After getting that 
sealed packet I reckon you know better.” Wade said 
nothing, and his expression betrayed nothing of the 
interest which he must have felt. “ This boat’s char- 
tered on a treasure hunt,” said Halliday. 

I started. Wade stroked his moustache, and waited, 
as if he had heard the most usual thing in the world. 
HalHday seemed disappointed. He had expected a 

sensation,” and it had not come. I think he liked his 
dramatic curtains ; but he continued quickly. 

“ It’s a long story that belongs right here, but I can 
keep it warm for another time. Anyway, you’ve got 
to fix on to these points. There’s treasure in an island 
West Indies way, which has been there for two hundred 
years, and there’s a map which came into my posses- 
sion — ^that’s my story, that’ll keep — and there’s the 
Dunca/nnon chartered for a cruise.” 

“ And the owners ” asked Wade laconically. 

“ That’s where my new story begins,” said Halliday, 
frowning. “ And that’s why I come to you. Buried 


64 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


treasure requires big handling, captain, and I’m not in 
a big way myself — not yet, that is. I came upon the 
map while on your side, while I was canvassing for 
one of our insurance companies. But this beats 
canvassing. It’s a dead cert, sir ! ” He struck 
the table sharply to emphasise his conviction. “ But, 
anyway, I couldn’t run to it as a lone hand,” he con- 
tinued with a certain sadness, ‘‘ and I figured out that I 
could make a joint-stock company of it, or a simple 
partnership. Blamed if I don’t wish I’d floated it 
right on to the public,” he said. “ But there was a lot 
against it — publicity and the write-me-downs in the 
financial papers, and so on. And then there was the 
chance that the scheme would be flooded out with laugh- 
ter. Anyway, after totting it up, I settled on a part- 
nership,” he paused, “ and advertised.” 

“ Hence this galley,” said Wade. 

“ Precisely ; as you remark, captain. Hence this 
galley. They’re a mixed crew, assorted to taste, but 
that taste’s not mine. I could have picked a better lot, 
east side of New York, in half a day. When you buy 
a bag I reckon you must expect to find something in it 
that don’t square with your taste. It’ll run up against 
you. And that’s my case. It’s run up against me, 
and that makes me look a fool and feel a fool, and I’m 
blamed if I don’t think it makes me be a fool.” 

Wade crossed his legs. “ If you would get on, Mr. 
Halliday,” he said. “ I assume you want assistance or 
advice in something.” 

I don’t know,” he said, musing. ‘‘ I believe I’m 


THETHIRDDAYOUT 65 

merely relieving my feelings, and my conscience, may- 
be,” he added. 

“ I’m pouring this into your ears by way of belated 
compensation. No; fact is, you’ve got to know it now. 
But I don’t know, anyway, that I can’t squeeze out for 
myself. That advertisement brought me hundreds of 
offers. I had some dollars myself, and I asked for six 
partners to put up each five thousand dollars. That 
gave us our charter. And I drew up a deed of sharing 
profits, by which we shared alike on the score of our 
money invested, but I came in on top with the map. 
Say, now, it was like this. There were twelve shares, 
and each man took one share, and left me five over — 
five-twelfths for the purchase price of the scheme, 
see.J^ ” 

Wade nodded. “ You get half,” he said laconically. 

Halliday’s eyes glowed as he rehearsed the financial 
arrangements, as I had no doubt they had glowed as 
he propounded them to his partners. “ Well, I fixed 
it up with the six along there, selecting some by reason 
of their knowledge of the sea. There’s Marley, for in- 
stance; a good sailor, eh, captain ” 

“ Decent,” said Wade. 

“ Then there’s Davenant,” he added hopefully. 

Tolerable,” said Wade. 

I thought Halliday was somewhat crestfallen at this 
damping reception, but he rattled on. 

“ But I chose some for other properties, same as I 
chose you, captain. I don’t want in this business a 
conventional hynm-singing, top-hat, frock-coat fellow.” 


66 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Well, you haven’t got him, so far as my acquain- 
tance goes,” I interjected, with a laugh. 

He eyed me. “ No; that’s so,” he said thoughtfully. 
“ I guess I overstepped the hmit, and have to stand the 
racket. I guess I ought to have sifted ’em better. But 
I’m blessed if I know now where I am,” he ended sadly. 

“ I wish we knew exactly where we were, Mr. Halli- 
day,” said Wade in his blunt way. 

“ I promise you shall,” he smiled back. “ The key of 
the cellar’s gone from my bureau.” 

“ That explains it,” I said. 

Wade whistled. 

Halliday watched us, not averse from a certain satis- 
faction in the dramatic surprise. “And the map,” he 
added. 

“ The map ! ” said Wade. 

Halliday nodded. “ Little Willie’s lost the map,” he 
said, “ and one of his partners has got it.” 

“ This,” said Wade, stirring — “ this begins to get 
interesting.” 


CHAPTER V 


HUNT-THE-SLIPPEE 

“ The existence of the map was known to all? ” asked 
Wade. 

“ The map was shown to all,” said Halliday. “ It 
was in evidence to prove the hona fides of the scheme. 
But it never left my possession — not till now. All co- 
partners are privy to the history of the map, but I was 
the only one in possession of it — till now,” he added 
again. 

“ The question is — which? Your half share was 
presumably the temptation,” said Wade. 

“ I’ll lay a dollar to a cent I know who has the key,” 
I said, “ and it would be making two bites at a cherry 
to look elsewhere.” 

‘‘Meaning Clifford?” said Wade, looking at me 
thoughtfully. “ Yes ; I nose Clifford in this somehow. 
It doesn’t appear to me insoluble.” 

“ Well, I don’t know,” said this American slowly. 
“ It isn’t quite so simple maybe as it seems. There’s six 
of them, and we’ve got to settle between ’em. Person- 
ally, I don’t feel like hitching the job on to anyone in 
particular. I don’t fancy sorting out their claims. 
At the same time, I’m not saying that Clifford won’t 
pouch his share of the liquor.” 

67 


68 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ He’s already been pouching it,” said I. “ When 
did you discover your loss ? ” 

“ About half-an-hour ago, when I was opening my 
bureau. I kept the map in a locked drawer, and the 
bureau was locked on the top of that. But that didn’t 
seem to worry the thief any.” 

He indicated the bureau lock which had been ruth- 
lessly shattered. 

‘‘ When did you notice it was last all right ” I asked. 

“ Just before dusk,” he answered. 

“ Well,” said I, “ that doesn’t somehow look like Clif- 
ford. The bureau must evidently have been rifled dur- 
ing the last two hours. Clifford was drunk then.” 

Doesn’t it look like the work of a drunken man.? ” 
inquired Wade. 

“ Possibly,” I assented, “ but I happen to be able to 
account for the movements of Clifford during part of 
that time. Still, it’s a difficult point. It might have 
been he.” 

“ Captain, we’ve got to find out,” said Halliday 
earnestly. 

“ You have,” said Wade coolly. “ I don’t know that 
it interests me. I’ve got to fetch up at this island, 
wherever it is. I can do that if the teapot holds to- 
gether.” 

“ Captain,” said Halliday, with a faint smile, 
“ you’re reckoning you ought to be in this for some- 
thing. I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But it seems to 
me I want your assistance pretty bad, and I’ll pay for 
it. This is going to look nasty for me if I don’t take 


HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 69 

care. See, I’m frank. I’m prepared to make you an 
offer.” 

“ Well, let’s see how you figure it out,” said Wade. 
“ All I see is that one of your partners purloined the 
map, but I don’t see that it’s going to make any ma- 
terial difference to you. You’ve got the bearings, I 
presume.” 

“ I know the map by heart, and what’s more, I’ve got 
a precise copy,” said Halliday. “ That’s not the point. 
The point is that they didn’t know it to any account, 
and now they do.” 

“ You mean ” 

“ I mean that if they are so disposed they can make 
it difficult for me over that agreement. You see, 
that’s gone with the other things, and rather floors 
me.” 

“Oh!” Wade straightened himself. “So that’s 
your pickle. It leaves you on a lee shore.” He consid- 
ered. “ You want to be in a position of leverage again.? 
All right, I’m in it for all I’m worth; and here’s Hera- 
path too, a good man at need.” 

“ Thank you, captain. I guess I’m obliged to you, 
and it won’t be any loss to you.” 

Wade shrugged his shoulders; he was indifferent to 
money, but he liked a sporting hazard. He rose. 

“ Then we’ve got to run the thief to earth. I’ll go 
bail for Marley.” 

Halliday nodded, but doubtfully. “ I guess he and 
Davenant are all right.” 

“ That narrows it to four,” said Wade. “ Oh, come. 


70 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


we’re not far off it. Let’s begin at once. I’m begin- 
ning to smell like a witch doctor already.” 

He went out on deck. “ What are you going to 
do ? ” inquired Halliday . 

“ You forget I have two passengers aboard who, I 
believe, have paid their fares ; and I have the unpleasant 
duty of explaining to them that they cannot now be 
landed in Baltimore.” 

“Yes; I’d clean forgot that,” confessed Halliday. 

Though it did cross my mind at the time, only a little 
ready cash was needed, and the old man paid up nobly 
— offered five hundred dollars ! ” 

• “Five hundred!” echoed Wade. “Well, he ought 
to get a bit more than a desert island for that. Any- 
way, it’s not my funeral.” 

He stalked away, leaving us together. “ Has he got 
anything in his head.? ” asked Halliday anxiously. 

“ I don’t know,” I replied. “ That’s his way. Shall 
you acquaint Marley.? ” 

“ That’s worrying me some,” he. returned. “ Yet if 
it was Marley I should not be telling him any- 
thing he didn’t know. Damn this sea! It’s roughing 
up.” > 

“ I’ll give you a tip,” said I. “ Tell each one in 
secrecy, and let him see you suspect all the others and 
not hih^self.” 

“ Gee-whizz ! That’s a notion,” he said. “ Say, I’ll 
think over that. I- cotton to it some. Mr. Herapath, 
your wits are not wool.” He walked up and down, and 
then stopped. “ Hear any noise ? ” 


HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 71 

My engines were pounding, but through that sound 
emerged a strain of song from below. 

“ Sing-song,” I commented. “ The owners make 
merry. Whatever’s become of the map and the deed, I 
reckon the key’s there.” 

“ And the key might have been a separate theft,” he 
remarked. ‘‘ It’s a puzzle. Well, I give to-night to it. 
Don’t think a ghost walks if you hear footsteps in the 
small hours. I’ve got to worry this out.” 

He called good-night, and left us, and I went below 
for some supper. The saloon was rowdy and hilarious, 
and Heaven, the steward, was seated at a table with the 
usual gang. I called to him sharply, and gave him my 
order, and his glassy eyes met mine as he went off. 

“ Halloa, V.C.,” cried the irrepressible Clifford from 
the other end, his head wrapped in a bandage. “ Let’s 
bury the hatchet in a pipe of peace. Come along. 
Great Cffisar, that was a thundering thwack! What’s 
your poison Mac, pass that fizz.” 

I said nothing, but stood staring at them, and Clif- 
ford fell into ribaldry, his face flushed purple with his 
potations. 

“ Where’s the key ? ” he demanded, feigning to look 
about him anxiously. “ I say, Herapath, come along. 
It’s a game of hunt-the-slipper. You got it, Mac? 
No. Halloa ! Damned if I don’t have a go at Barney’s 
boots. He’s got ’em on. Lord, how your pockets 
bulge, old cock. Come and join the fun, old man. 
We’re all in for a game of hunt-the-slipper.” 

Byrne sat with his significant and humorous Irish. 


72 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


smile on his pasty face, and McLeod scowled. I 
turned my back on them. It was not I who could exe- 
cute the plan I had suggested to Halliday. I had too 
much feeling against the crew. No; Halliday alone 
could carry it out, and was at that moment, no doubt, 
turning it round in his ingenious mind. 

I visited Wade before I turned in, and found him 
placid. 

“ It’s no affair of ours if they have lost this damned 
chart,” he said, “ but it may be amusing. It’s either 
Clifford or Byrne, and I’ll just open accounts to-morrow 
with them. There’s more than one lock in a ship ; but 
only one master. I say, Ned,” he added as he turned in, 
“ that’s a rum joker, that Frenchman. I told him Bal- 
timore was off, and he looked at me so fiercely I thought 
he could have knifed me.” 

“ ‘ It is outrage,’ he cried in his Frenchy way, and he 
was beginning to carry on so that I hurried to get it 
over. 

“ ‘ You must settle it with the owners. I obey 
orders,’ I told him. ‘ But it appears they are bent on 
going to an unknown island for some reason of their 
own.’ 

“ ‘ Island,’ says he. ‘ Unknown ! ’ and was silent for 
a bit ; after which he said quite calmly : ‘ Very well, M. 
le Capitain, I accept my destiny. I see you are not to 
blame.’ 

“ There’s fatalism for you. But he probably meant 
to say destination. I don’t know how the girl will 
like it.” 


HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 73 

I was wondering myself, for she was bound to know 
next morning. She had been cheated into making a 
voyage to Baltimore without adequate preparations; 
and now even that limit was to be denied her, and she 
would find herself committed to an expedition of which 
no one could see the end. Certainly I could not see the 
end. From all signs we carried a quarrelsome party, in 
which were the seeds of possible mutiny. Halliday had 
been robbed by one of his companions; that was bad 
enough for a start. And his anxiety was not to flourish 
his loss in public, but to pursue his detective investiga- 
tions under the rose. He had some reason for it, but he 
was silent as to that. Wade, however, was of a very 
different cast. He would truckle to no one, and would 
stand no nonsense. He was as reckless in dealing with 
men as with his ship. The chart, he declared, was Hal- 
liday’s affair, but the key was his, and he tackled it at 
once. 

He had Clifford and McLeod in his cabin by eight 
bells next day, and gave them the rough side of his 
tongue. 

“Where’s that key.^^” he demanded after some 
straight talk. 

“What key.^” said CliflPord, blinking at him 
foolishly. 

“ Look you here, my man,” said Wade sharply, “ I 
understand you’re a sort of owner of this boat, and as 
such, I suppose, you’ll get your reward; but I’ll have 
you know that you’re also under me, and that, by God, 
I’ll have discipline aboard. Where’s that key?’^ 


74 ) 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


A grin spread on CliflPord’s mottled face. “ Do you 
mean the key of the cellar, captain.'^ ” he asked. 

“ Yes,” said Wade curtly. 

Clifford took something from his pocket, and threw 
it on the table with a clank. “ I’m glad to get rid of 
it,” he said, with a deep sigh. “ It’s been a bally re- 
sponsibihty. I thought Mr. Halliday was going to take 
charge of it ; and he might have told me he was going to 
leave it in the door.” 

“ Leave it in the door ! ” repeated Wade. 

“ That’s where I found it,” said innocent Clifford. 
“ I suppose it was Mr. Halliday put it there.” 

Wade’s brow clouded. “ The key was stolen, and 
you know it,” he said sternly. But there was no use in 
altercation. “ Now, in future. I’ll take charge of this, 
and I don’t think you’ll find it an easy matter to fool 
me.” He got up, as if to end the audience, and added 
in his most significant voice : “ And in the event of any 
trouble I’m not one to hesitate. I’ve used irons before 
now.” 

“ This is very interesting,” said Clifford politely, 
turning to his companion, McLeod, ‘‘isn’t it, doctor? 
When was the last time you used irons, captain, and 
under what circs ? ” 

Wade flushed slightly, but made no reply. Instead, 
he pointed to the door, and Clifford civilly gave him 
good-morning, and went out with his companion. 

“ Butter wouldn’t melt in the scoundrel’s mouth,” he 
told me, “ but I didn’t like the look of that man McLeod. 
He’s the man we’ve got to keep our eyes on. He’s dan- 



HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 


75 

gerous. I shouldn’t be surprised to find him run amuck 
some fine day. Damn it, what swine ! ” 

The phrase seemed to describe them very well, which 
made me all the more annoyed to notice the friendly 
manner Miss Sylvester showed to the doctor. His 
duties were nominal, and he had all his time on his 
hands ; with the result that he was constantly in attend-^ 
ance upon the girl, whom I frequently overheard laugh- 
ing and talking with him. He was plain-looking, but 
had a fine figure, yet his appearance to my mind was 
disfigured at the root by the latent passion in his face. 
Of this, however, I must confess there was no trace when 
he was in Miss Sylvester’s company. She had taken the 
news of the ship’s destination with admirable good na- 
ture. I do not think she realised for one moment what 
it meant or might mean, and she was most probably 
taken with the romance of the expedition. 

“Oh, Mr. Herapath, aren’t you excited?” she said 
once, joining me breathlessly at the side of the steamet. 
Her face sparkled with beauty and her eyes with light. 
“ I’m just dying to get to the island,” she added ecstat- 
ically, “ and then uncle and I will take our passages in 
another boat, and I can meet my boxes in Baltimore,” 
she added again. 

That was the tale then that she had received, and in her 
innocence believed. She imagined that she could tran- 
ship from our treasure island when she had exhausted 
its interest and her own curiosity ! I did not undeceive 
her, for it was no business of mine, and, besides, it would 
have been ruthless. By this time, you see, it was known 


76 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


through the ship that our destination was not Balti- 
more. The sealed orders should have been opened by 
now, and Halliday’s co-partners no doubt believed that 
this was what had happened. They were not aware 
that Wade and myself had been taken into Halliday’s 
confidence. But the word treasure had gone fore and 
aft, and had stimulated all hands, as if it had been an 
extra glass of grog. There was wonderful good temper 
among the crew, even the Dagoes, of whom there were 
several, showing smiling countenances. We had run 
into good weather, and were laying our new course, 
Wade authoritative and inscrutable as ever. 

There was no trouble among the partners for some 
days, and we appeared to have weathered the threatened 
storm. That, however, was but a delusive interlude, as 
you shall see. It was not many days before some signs 
of insubordination were visible among the crew. I no- 
ticed louder voices and less reputable behaviour than are 
consistent with good seamanship and strict discipline. 
And at last, as I was descending into the lower deck, one 
of the hands ran into me, obviously drunk. 

“ What the ” he began, and lurched off. I gave 

Wade the information, and he caused inquiries to be 
made. Marley, having investigated, came back with a 
bad report. 

“ I’m very sorry, old man,” he said, seated opposite 
his captain, whom he thus cavalierly addressed, “ but 
there’s some mischief down there. And I can’t get at 
the bottom of it. I found two of the beggars drunk, 
and several had had quite as much as was good for them. 




HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 77 

I gave the blighters a dressing down, but they’re a 
cheeky lot, and I wouldn’t trust some of them.” 

“Oh!” said Wade, rising, “we’ll soon get to the 
bottom of this. Give me the names.” 

“ Atkins and Desprez drunk,” said Marley, consult- 
ing his notes, “ and a lot of others — Santoni, Millevois, 
Carsch, Anton, Peters — had been drinking.” 

“ Mr. Marley, be so good as to instruct Mr. Dave- 
nant to have the crew piped on deck,” said Wade 
formally. 

Marley went out and presently the boatswain’s whistle 
was heard. I think it was a great occasion for Digby, 
“ part owner.” No one knew what was coming, not 
even I, though I had looked interrogatively at Wade. 
His face was set like a bull-dog’s, his jaw stiff. 

It was dark, and the men were assembled facing the 
upper deck, the captain on the bridge. 

“ My lads,” shouted Wade from above, “ there’s some 
bad eggs among you, half-seas over. I want to know 
where you come by that stuff before I take action.” 

There was no reply from below, but a sort of deep 
murmur passed along the ranks. 

“ Very well. I’ll have it sooner or later out of you, 
if I’ve got to hammer it out. Best be sensible,” said 
Wade’s cool voice. “ I’m not going to come down hard 
on you. Only this has got to end.” 

Still there was no reply. “ I’ll give you four min- 
utes,” said Wade, and left the bridge. He joined me, 
breathing heavily. 

“ You can see it now, Herapath,” he said. “ It’s 


78 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


warming up. We’ve bit off as much as we can chew. 
I’ve seen crews all my life, and I know it.” 

“What’s old glory at.? ” inquired Clifford as he 
brushed past me. 

He’s discovered that some of his hands are drunk,” 
I replied deliberately, “ and more are fractious.” 

“ Crikey ! ” he exclaimed. “ Here’s a go ! I wish I’d 
not left my mammy. Let’s see the fun.” He pushed 
on precipitately, and when I turned Wade had re- 
mounted to the bridge. 

“ Well.? ” he shouted. 

“ There’s nothing to say, sir,” shouted back several 
voices. 

“ Very well,” said he. “ Atkins, Desprez, Santoni, 

Carsch, Millevois, Peters, Anton ” he completed the 

list. “ Remain ! All others resume duty, or go 
below.” 

There was a movement visible among the squad, a 
movement of disintegration, and then suddenly, and 
without a further word on anyone’s part, a fierce stream 
of water from two hoses began to play upon them from 
the upper deck. There followed at once a stampede and 
confusion, and savage oaths reached us. But the hoses 
played on, and the victims bolted in various directions. 
The batteries sought them in hiding-places; the deck 
was searched, until at last it was empty, untenanted, 
and dripping in the faint light. Wade descended from 
the bridge now, and not a muscle of his face moved. He 
went to his cabin without a remark. It was Clifford 
who made the comment. 


HUNT-THE-SLIPPER 


79 


Gosh! How’s that for high? The dook is on his 
hind legs.” 

“ Damn silly thing to do,” growled Marley in my 
ears. “ It wasn’t bad fun, and it’ll sober them up. 
But damn silly thing to do.” 

Davenant was beside us, blinking through his glasses 
at the scene. 


CHAPTER VI 


m’leod 

Halliday was confined to his cabin again, for the wind 
had swollen to half a gale, and the sea was running 
heavily. He had stood out against his weakness in a 
gallant manner, but had been forced to capitulate, 
lled-eyed, pink-nosed, and pinched of face, he had re- 
tired, and we did not see him for two days. But during 
those two days we were not idle. Indeed, things became 
very lively for us, owing in the main to Wade’s high- 
handed action. He had the temper of an autocrat, and 
he had the right, but I question if it was wise to take the 
step he did. And yet when one thinks of what after- 
wards happened at the island, it is impossible to say 
whether events would have been affected had he stayed 
his hand. 

The trouble began, as usual, with Clifford, that cheer- 
ful, leering scoundrel, who seemed absolutely to delight 
in disorder and rows out of sheer wantonness. With 
this news of the crew in his ears Wade summoned the 
storekeeper before him again. He did not beat about 
the bush with useless threats, but went straight to the 
point. He demanded of Clifford his accounts and books. 

“ Books,” said this Beelzebub, staring. I didn’t 
know you had to keep books ! ” 

“ Think they kept themselves? ” sneered Wade. 

80 


M ’ L E O D 


81 


Clifford grinned. Nothing could perturb that shame- 
less bosom. 

“ Damn it, if I’d known there was any of that tommy- 
rot I wouldn’t have taken it on,” he said. “ Anyway, 
I’ve got the cash, and I’ll shell out.” 

He reappeared presently, with a piece of paper on 
which were some accounts, and Wade inspected it. 

“ This isn’t the slightest use to me,” he remarked 
shortly. “ This purports to give the amount of stores 
dispensed, but where is the account of the stores 
shipped.^ ” 

“ How the deuce was I to loiow that was wanted ” 
asked Clifford with apparent vexation; but I could see 
the glint in his eyes that spoke of vicious laughter. 
“ I’ve got some of the invoices,” he added, as if in miti- 
gation of his negligence. 

“ Including those for wine and rum.^ ” asked Wade, 
once more with his sneer. 

“ It’s possible. I couldn’t say,” said Clifford easily. 
“ I’ll have a look if you like.” 

“ Pray do,” said Wade politely, and we waited. 
“ That man’s very clever,” he remarked in an even voice. 
“ It’s a rare combination, cunning and audacity, and 
goes far to make a first-class scoundrel.” 

Clifford returned jauntily. “No; I find there’s no 
wine or spirits invoices,” he said cheerfully, and grinned 
at both of us. Then he went off into laughter. 

“ You may go,” said Wade curtly, and when he was 
gone, turned to me. “ He’s one of my owners ! Great 
Scott ! The mischief of it is we can’t discover how much 


82 


THE DEVIL'S PULPIT 


of the spirits they’ve cached. No one but this cherub 
knows how much came aboard. We must only reckon 
on this now, that they’ve got their separate cellar, and 
are going to use it when they like.” 

This was exactly what happened. We were unable 
to trace the source of the drinking, but drinking con- 
tinued. The men were well supplied with rum from 
some secret fount, and the discipline of the ship de- 
teriorated in a marked degree. Both Marley and 
Davenant reported their inability to stem the growing 
disorder. It was not that the hands were mutinous, but 
they were in a lax state, and resented the routine of 
duty. Also they assumed a familiarity to which they 
were ordinarily foreign. I cannot imagine that the 
man Crashaw could ever have developed a greater 
offence of manner than was natural to his bold gait, but 
the demoralisation showed in almost all the others, who 
were wont on occasion to indulge in winks and nudges 
and significant grins in the presence of any of their 
officers. If the sousing to which some of them had been 
subjected rankled in their minds we saw nothing of that. 
It was merely now that they shared a joke against us. 

Marley fumed, Davenant shrugged his shoulders, 
and Wade was philosophically silent. I think he ex- 
pected something worse and. was saving up for it. Hal- 
liday reappeared for a short time, and in his sharp, way 
noted the altered behaviour of the crew. But he took it 
with nonchalance. His indomitable spirit could be 
nothing but optimistic. 

Say, they’ll settle down, the boys will,” he remarked. 


MCLEOD 


83 


“ They’re going a bit free, I don’t doubt, but that’s the 

liquor. If I thought it was that blamed Clifford 

But, anyway, they’ll settle down.” 

I inquired on this occasion as to his progress in dis- 
covering the thief, and he looked down his nose. 

“ Fact is, Mr. Herapath,” he said, “ I didn’t have 
time to get a hold of it. I quite cottoned to your no- 
tion, and I acted on it.” 

“ Well.^^ ” I queried with interest. 

He stroked his clean-shaven face demurely. “ Well, 
I told each of them in private that I had lost a docu- 
ment, and that of the whole lot I was only perfectly 
sure of him. Do you see? That was the lay, wasn’t 
it? Well,” his voice became dry, and his manner drier, 
“ they each said they guessed that was so, and that they 
suspected the others. That didn’t seem to get us much 
farther.” A furtive smile dawned on his face. 

“ What, did Marley and Davenant say that ? ” I 
asked. 

“ I kinder let them out,” he answered. “ But the 
other four did, and Digby gave me to understand 
bluntly that he had never kept company with such trash 
in his life, having been born a gentleman.” 

“ He drinks with them,” said I ; “ and, after all, it is 
possible they were all born gentlemen.” 

“ It’s a word that puzzles me,” said Halliday. 

What does it signify anyway? Still, if it is going to 
count as an umbrella. I’ll bet my last greenback that it 
doesn’t cover Clifford.” 

No, Clifford defied analysis. He quoted the classics. 


84 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


and he had a varied vocabulary, but he had no preten- 
sions to having ever once been a gentleman. He was 
bom a “ bounder.” And an amazing bounder ! For 
here my narrative touches farce. Halliday driven back 
into his cabin by stress of weather, Clifford approached 
Wade, and offered his assistance to quell the insubordi- 
nate crew ! 

“ Before they get ugly,” he urged, with his grin. 

I was not present at the interview, and I never heard 
exactly what happened, but I know Clifford ran the risk 
of having his head broken a second time. “ I sent him 
to the right about,” was all Wade said. But having 
been cheated of his office of peace-maker, Clifford ap- 
parently decided to go out as a volunteer. He mingled 
with the men a good deal, hobnobbed with them, and 
chaffed them, but I did not observe that his missionary 
efforts were much rewarded. On the contrary, the 
hands’ familiarity was increased, though it was good- 
natured enough. 

Meanwhile the voyage had been uneventful for Miss 
Sylvester and her uncle, but both seemed quite satisfied 
with their surroundings. The girl enjoyed the novelty 
of her position, and pelted me, and all of us, with ques- 
tions as to the island and the treasure. I could honestly 
say I knew nothing, but that could not be McLeod’s 
excuse for silence. And, indeed, I have reasons to believe 
that he told her as much as he knew. Clifford, of course, 
she never condescended to notice in any way, and to 
Byme, his constant associate and boon companion, she 
paid scant attention. She concentrated herself socially 


M’LEOD 


85 


upon Wade, McLeod, the two officers, and myself, and of 
these McLeod was most in her company. Davenant was 
polite but formal, and Marley was too roughly hewn to 
take a young girl’s fancy. In an ordinary way ship- 
board intimacy is easily established, and given that in- 
genuous and open nature of the girl, it was not difficult 
to account for the friendly relations which she main- 
tained with McLeod. The man himself was improved by 
this association, as one had grudgingly to admit. It 
removed him a good deal from the society of Byrne and 
Clifford, and brought out better points in a wild nature. 
Yet he was still listed as dangerous in my private books, 
and not without justice. 

In the dusk of one evening, when we had f airly run into 
the West Indian waters, I was upon the lower deck on 
some errand, and at the back of some kegs I came upon 
a seaman stooped over something. 

“ What is it. Carter.? ” I inquired. 

He raised his head as a turtle raises his, and straight- 
ened himself, laughing awkwardly. 

“It’s Joyce,” he said; and added: “I reckon he 
ought to have the hose, sir.” 

I saw now what it was. The drunken man lay 
stertorous and helpless. I eyed Carter, a slow-moving, 
bulky, dull-witted fellow, with huge, capable hands. 

“ I oughtn’t to say it,” I said ; “ but it would be 
wiser for him to be out of this. If I were you and 
your friends. Carter, I’d get him below.” 

“ That’s what I was going to do, sir,” said Carter in 
a confidential manner. 


86 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Very well,” said I. “ I haven’t seen anything. But 
when you’ve disposed of him I wouldn’t take it amiss if 
you came to my cabin, Carter.” 

“ Very well, sir,” he said, staring heavily. And I 
left him. 

Now this was deliberately designed on my part. I 
was using a sprat, so to speak, to catch a mackerel. If 
I had not shown myself sympathetic over Joyce’s inani- 
mate body I should have alienated Carter. At any rate, 
he would not have been likely to give me any assist- 
ance. It remained to see if he would in any case. He 
knocked half-an-hour later, when the dark had fully 
descended. 

“ I couldn’t come before, sir,” he explained, “ as I — 
well, I hadn’t the chance.” 

He displayed some confusion, and I drew my own 
inference — namely, that he had not wanted to be seen 
visiting me, and hence had waited until the dusk had 
deepened. 

“ Well, Carter,” I said diplomatically, “ sit down, I 
want to have a talk. Joyce all right ” 

“ Yes, sir — ^nicely laid in bed.” 

Carter was ill at ease, and ponderous of manner. 
The machinery of his brain turned so rustily that he 
hardly recognised it was in motion. 

“ About this drinking. Carter ? ” 

« Yes, sir.” 

“ You know it won’t do. I’m not going to say any- 
thing about Joyce, or what I’ve seen, but it’s got to stop 
if we’re not going to get into trouble. I don’t even 


MCLEOD 87 

ask where it comes from. All I want to have is an as- 
surance that the men will go slow on it.” 

Carter fumbled with his thoughts. “ I don’t know, 
sir. Some of them’s a bit hard to head off.” 

“ True ; but, I suppose, there’s someone in authority 
over the supplies ? ” 

I spoke as if it was quite a natural thing that they 
should have their private cellar, and my tone was rather 
that of one who begs a friend for assistance. 

“ Oh, ’Eaven’s no good,” he said thoughtlessly, and 
then it dawned on him what he had said. I gave no 
sign of receiving this information with astonishment or 
satisfaction, but, ignoring the trouble in his eyes, con- 
tinued in the same tone. 

“ Well, anyway, Carter, there ought to be someone 
able to put a stop to this excessive drinking. It’s 
bound to lead to trouble.” 

“ There ought, sir,” he agreed, looking relieved. 

“ Understand me,” I pursued. “ It’s for the sake of 
the ship I say this. I’m not blaming the men for enjoy- 
ing themselves within reason. I like a drop myself. 
But there are evidently some of them who can’t help 
making pigs of themselves.” 

“ That’s true, sir,” said Carter, “ and I could put 
a name to them too; but I don’t like splitting on 
pals.” 

“ I wouldn’t ask you to,” I replied. “ Of course, we 
know that Heaven distributes the rum, but we don’t 
know where it is.” 

“ Oh, you knew that, sir ? ” said Carter, staring. 


88 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ Why, do you suppose we’re blind? ” I asked. “ I 
don’t like Heaven, and I don’t trust him.” 

Carter glanced about cautiously before speaking. 
“ Well, it isn’t for me to say, sir, but I don’t like his 
goings-on. Of course, I wouldn’t say anything to come 
between my shipmates and myself ; but I don’t like 
’Eaven, and that’s flat.” 

“ Ah, Carter,” said I sadly, shaking my head, and 
drawing a bow at a venture. “ It’s not so much 
Heaven as those who are above and ought to know better 
than he. I blame them.” 

I had to angle him, you see, but the operation repaid 
me. He leaned forward mysteriously. 

You’re right, sir. I don’t want to open my mouth 
about no one, but I wouldn’t trust that there doctor, 
not for nuts.” 

“ Ah, you’ve observed then ? ” I said, nodding. 
“ You’ve a shrewd mind, Carter.” 

“Observed?” he said, now quite lumberingly confi- 
dential. “ Why, I seed him.” 

“ That day? ” said I vaguely. 

He nodded, and went on in a lower voice. “ I was 
swabbin’ the deck by the charthouse, and it was pretty 
dark, and I see him go into Mr. Halliday’s cabin. 
’Twas him took the key, sir, sure enough.” 

“ Carter,” said I, clapping him on the back, “ this is 
important. You’re a very important witness.” 

He looked uncomfortable. “ I wouldn’t do anything 
that was unfriendly to my mates,” he said in a crest- 
fallen way. 


MCLEOD 


89 


You needn’t,” I said. ‘‘ I think I can promise you 
won’t be called upon to do anything. But we must 
maintain discipline aboard. You know that as well 
as I, don’t you ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir ; of course, sir,” he said, cheering up. 

“ And now. Carter,” I went on, ‘‘ as this is an excep- 
tional occasion, I think I may ask you to join me in a 
glass.” 

“ Thank ye, sir,” he said, now quite at his ease. 

I took the information forthwith to Wade, who heard 
me out, frowned, and rang a bell. 

“ Heaven we’ll deal with in due course,” he said. 
“ But McLeod is a more important matter. We’ll set- 
tle that right away.” 

‘‘ I don’t want to bring in Carter’s name if possible,” 
I said. “ I took advantage of him, and I feel rather 
mean about it.” 

“ You’re so thin-skinned, my son,” said he. “ But I 
think I can bluff it all right without him,” and broke off 
to give an order. “ Ask Mr. Marley, Mr. Davenant, and 
Dr. McLeod if they will be good enough to join me here.” 

Marley arrived before the others, and saw by Wade’s 
face that something was wrong. 

“ What’s the row.? ” he asked. 

“ Court of justice,” said Wade. 

“ McLeod,” said 1. 

Marley whistled. “ I thought the blighter would 
tumble into it sooner or later,” he said. 

There was a noise outside, and the ^door opened, 
Davenant slipping in softly but with rather a flushed 


90 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


face. On his heels came McLeod, tall, wiry, and swag- 
gering. At a glance I saw he had been with his friends. 

“ What’s up ? ” he asked. 

Wade eyed him steadily. “ Last week,” he said ab- 
ruptly, “ Mr. Halliday’s cabin was entered, his bu- 
reau was broken into, and a key was abstracted. The 
thief was seen and identified by witnesses who have only 
just come forward. He was Dr. McLeod.” 

Marley called out in surprise : “ The devil ! ” 

Davenant looked from one to the other, from the ac- 
cuser to the accused. McLeod did not break out, as I 
had expected, but a sneer spread over his face. 

“ Is that what you’ve summoned me here to tell me ? ” 
he asked in his brusque Scottish voice. 

“ I charge you, sir, in the presence of these gentle- 
men,” said Wade sternly, “ and give you warning of 
the proceedings which will follow. You have been guilty 
of theft.” 

“ Oh,” said McLeod quietly enough and very Doric, 
but the anger swelling within him was visible through 
all. “ Is that all.f^ It’s very considerate of you. Cap- 
tain Mark Wade, as they call you — very considerate in- 
deed; and I take it friendly like to ” 

“ There is another matter also,” broke in Wade coldly. 
“ You stole not only a key, but a chart and a document, 
both the private property of Mr. Halliday, who ” 

“ It’s a damned lie, you damned liar ! ” cried the Scots- 
man, his fury suddenly overflowing in passion ; and lift- 
ing his fist .he struck Wade over the forehead, and 
drove his head against the woodwork. 


CHAPTER VII 


CONCERNING THE CHART 

Davenant took hold of the savage, and Wade re- 
covered himself. In that moment I admired his self- 
control, for his hands were trembling, and his face had 
whitened. But he remembered even then that he was 
on the bench, and there was a perceptible pause before 
any word was said. McLeod, restrained between Dave- 
nant and Marley, was unabashed, but he made no at- 
tempt to renew his outrage. 

“ This is a case for irons,” said Wade quietly. “ Mr. 
Herapath, will you kindly get a couple of men.” 

Irons be ” cried McLeod, and strove to throw 

off the hands that held him. Davenant remonstrated 
with him in the struggle that followed, and I caught 
the words : 

“ The man called me a thief. I’ll let blood out of 
any man that calls me thief.” 

I ended the struggle by putting my arms over his 
from behind, so that he could make no movement; and 
meanwhile Wade had rung. It was not a pleasant sight, 
but it had to be endured, and Wade watched the opera- 
tion of ironing unperturbed. McLeod, having ceased 
to resist, had turned sullen, and malevolence kindled 
in his eyes as he was taken away. 

‘‘ I don’t know, gentlemen,” remarked Wade care- 
91 


92 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


fully, “ if this is going to do us any good. We’ve 
got the thief, but I don’t quite see what we are go- 
ing to do with him. It isn’t as if we were able to 
hand him over to port authorities. We’re not likely to 
trouble port authorities much at present, as far as I can 
make out. Anyway, the gentleman is better where he 
is for a time.” 

This was admirably self-restrained, but I think that 
blow on the head determined a good deal for Wade, and 
for the the rest of us. He had been up to that point 
a shipmaster beyond reproach, holding his position with 
exemplary manner. From this incident dates the de- 
velopment of his bravado which was characteristic of one 
side of his nature. The unusual conditions of this curi- 
ous expedition had hitherto just failed to divert him from 
his course ; now he fell. And the first sign of his chang- 
ing demeanour was apparent the very next morning. 

News had gone about the ship, and even our pas- 
sengers were acquainted early with McLeod’s disgrace. 
Something unintelHgible in the nature of woman, per- 
verse and irrational, but sympathetic, stirred Miss Syl- 
vester to a display of agitation and even indignation. 
It was horrid; it was unjust; it was cruel. She knew 
there must be a mistake. And if McLeod had hit the 
captain, anyone with spirit would do the same if he 
were accused of stealing. 

This you might have looked upon as the amiable but 
embarrassing complaints of a child. It was to me she 
pleaded thus, distressfully and angrily, and a sense of 
her vivacious beauty moved me. 


CONCERNING THE CHART 


93 


‘‘ It’s the gravest nautical offence,” I said. “ To 
look over it would be to dissolve the whole discipline 
upon which the safety of crew and passengers depends.” 

“ It was Captain Wade’s fault,” she repeated vehe- 
mently, and I’ll tell him so. And I’ll ask him to re- 
lease Dr. McLeod from his shameful position.” 

And Wade making his appearance negligently at 
that moment, she fulfilled her promise by rushing upon 
him. 

“ Captain Wade, you must just release Dr. McLeod. 
It’s abominable of you to have put him in irons. He 
was quite justified in striking you when you told him he 
was a thief. And he didn’t hurt you much anyway.” 

Wade’s eyes hghted up with amusement. ‘‘ Not 
much,” he assented. “ But it might have been awk- 
ward if he had caught me a little lower — say, just 
there. Miss Sylvester.” And he indicated a spot above 
his ear. ‘‘ I don’t think a week to cool down will harm 
him.” 

“ A week ! ” she shrilled, horror-struck. 

Wade’s eyes admired her. “ Oh, my dear Miss Syl- 
vester, he’s a lucky man to have enlisted such an ad- 
vocate. Say six days.” 

“ Six days ! ” She looked despair at him. 

Five,” he relented ; and she shook her head deci- 
sively. 

“ Come then, four,” he pursued, smiling. 

‘‘ I won’t consent to four,” said the girl, displaying 
now in her change of voice a recognition of her inter- 
vening influence. 


94 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ If you are going to be very kind,” I heard Wade 
say in his most wooing voice, “ I’ll make it three.” 

Again she shook her head. The affair had dropped 
for her straightway out of the category of tragedy, 
and was becoming a mere nothing, owing to his treat- 
ment of it. She had expected a grim tyrant and an 
executioner’s cell, and here was a pleasant cavalier 
ready to grant a lady’s whim. With that her own 
portentous emotion vanished, and she returned his 
smile. 

“ It was very cruel of you,” she said. “You oughtn’t 
to have done it at all. Dr. McLeod ” 

I passed out of hearing, and I never heard the end 
of that haggling, but it represented the new order in 
Wade. McLeod was not released that day, and even I 
was disposed to think he had been hardly treated. 
After all, we had no proof that he had rifled the bureau, 
and his violent outbreak seemed to indicate his good 
faith. Carter might have been mistaken. Anyway, we 
had not tried him, and though it was for his assault 
he had been sentenced, he went to gaol, so to speak, 
with the stain of a crime on his reputation which had 
not been proved. 

Wade was about with Miss Sylvester most of the day. 
He had a very facile gallantry, and took to it naturally. 
Women were to him objects of flirtation, to whom you 
were bound to make love. His sentiments never soared 
higher than this. And with these ideas he kept him- 
self, and, as a rule, the ladies very well amused. As 
for Miss Sylvester, I thought she exchanged the com- 


CONCERNING THE CHART 95 


pany of the imprisoned man for the man who had im- 
prisoned him with surprising indifference. To all ac- 
counts, and to judge by her laughter on deck, she 
had wholly forgotten the victim languishing in his cell 
— an odd contrast with her emotion in the morning 
on learning of his fate. 

The fall of McLeod thus promptly had its effect 
on the boon companions. If I may say so, it sobered 
Clifford; and Byrne lost his smile. I dare say they 
had begun to wonder whose turn would come next. They 
“ let up ” on the bottle, as Marley phrased it, if they 
did not alter their general mode of life. They as- 
sociated together, and were to be seen in conversation 
much; they did no work; and they lolled on deck in 
slovenly attire, or slept in their cabins in still easier 
garments. For the sun was now quite strong in heaven, 
and the weather was summer-like. Halliday, recovered 
sufficiently in the smoother water, once more took the 
stage, full of notions which he had elaborated in his 
seclusion. But first he must learn our news, and 
McLeod’s downfall. 

“ Well, I shouldn’t have thought it of him,” was his 
comment. “ But he’s a cantankerous chap. Anyway, 
I’ve thought this out, and see here, I reckon those 
three are in it together. They’ve got my agreement 
and the chart, and I stand to lose a lot unless I can 
square it up. Oh, I’ll get them all right. I’m not feel- 
ing soft over it.” 

“ It doesn’t matter to you more than the senti- 
ment of it,” I told him. “ You’ve lost your agree- 


96 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


ment, but Marlej and Davenant and Digby have 
theirs, and they can be produced in evidence.” 

“ Yes, I thought of that,” he answered. “ But I 
guess it ain’t so easy. It’s all right about those three, 
but where do the other three come in? They may 
claim a verbal agreement, defy me to produce mine, 
and they’re three mouths to one. Not but what it’s 
risky for them. But blamed if I can see,” he went on, 
frowning, “ what they want that map for. I’ve been 
puzzling on that all the while I’ve been laid out in that 
bunk there. I guess they guess I knew all about it 
and have a copy.” 

“ Well, I don’t know anything about it,” I said. 
“ But I’ll go bail that they don’t mean the square thing 
by you — unless, that is, it’s mere drunken wantonness 
and folly. It’s possible it’s that. One might as well 
live in Bedlam as with some of these folk. If I were 
you, Mr. Halliday, I would have chosen better.” 

“ That’s so,” he said. “ I’m not going to say if I 
hadn’t to do it over again I wouldn’t. But I can’t 
shake ’em now; I’ve got to make the best of it. And 
come to think of it from my point of view, I hadn’t 
much of a chance. I had to hurry.” 

“ Hurry? ” said I. “ Why, was there any other ” 

“ It’s kind of romantic,” said Halliday, crossing 
his legs as we sat in his comfortable cabin. He had 
hospitably placed before me a bottle of wine, but took 
nothing himself, nor did he smoke. He looked pale and 
languid, but was irrepressibly buoyant. His mind, 
to adapt Dry den’s phrase, was, one imagined, fretting 


CONCERNING THE CHART 


97 


his meagre body to decay. “ I don’t know but it isn’t 
worth putting on record. It’s a good newspaper story 
anyway. I was doing a line for our company, letting- 
the great British public know that the Union Mutual 
Insurance Company had come to Europe to stir up 
things and smooth the path to the grave of the very 
strongest.” His eyes twinkled, for he had his full 
share of humour along with his strange intensity. “ I 
guess I’ve smoothed many paths, made it easy for them 
to die. But this one I couldn’t exactly see my way 
to smoothing. One day, when I was in Liverpool, I 
got track of a big policy way up your mountains — 
Fell Something they called it — and I lit out for it. 
Settled the contract, and came away pretty content, 
on a dripping misty day, with the autumnal flavour 
hanging round so thick you could cut it and keep it 
with your cheeses. I went bang into the inn on the 
hillside, when I’d finished with the Park, and had some- 
thing to eat.” He broke off. “ Say, Herapath, do 
you cotton to that beer of yours — ^bitter beer, you call 
it?” 

“We all swear by English beer,” I answered. 

“ That’s so,” he said rather sadly and reminiscently. 
“ Well, I’m blamed if I can see the fascination of it. 
I’d sooner chew gum. It’s like that book in the Revela- 
tions, you remember. Anyway, I had some food, and 
a glass of milk, and then it struck me that I might as 
well improve the shining hours on the business end of 
a pen; and so I set about a red-faced farmer at the 
table who’d been to market from the look of him, and 


98 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


wasn’t going to get home for a long time by the same 
look of him. 

“ I rained figures and facts on him, like it was rain- 
ing outside, trotted up all the arguments — reminded 
him of his children, which, it seemed, he hadn’t got; 
told him of his duty to his wife, who turned out to 
be dead; and just about snowed him under with the 
benefits and advantages and privileges of the Union 
Mutual. When I was done, or very nearly done, and 
had come to a stop for rest and refreshments so to 
speak, he opened his mouth, which he had kept closed 
like a trap all along, and woke up. 

“ ‘ Look ’ee, mister,’ says he. ‘ There’s nobbut my- 
self depending on me, and I’m not thinking of dying 
yet. I’ll live to drink old October, dammy, another 
forty year. What you young folks ought to do is to 
save men from dying, lad, not offer to give ’un money 
when they’re dead. It’s encouraging dying, I call it,’ 
he says. ‘ You come along and tell all you said here 
to a chap upstairs,’ said he, ‘ and he’ll insure, he will. 
I’ll bet five pund he’ll insure,’ he cried. 

“ Well, upstairs I went, into a room of the inn, which 
turned out to be a bedroom, and on the bed was a man, 
old and withered and parched, and looking out of lack- 
lustre eyes and signed all over by the undertaker. 

“ ‘ Jarge,’ he calls out to this farmer. ‘ Jarge, here’s 
a young fellow to insure ’ee.’ And off he goes into a 
fit of laughter. 

“ I was mighty sick, as you may guess, at the dis- 
appointment, but I wasn’t going to let the old buffer 


CONCERNING THE CHART 99 


get it in the neck for a tipsy man’s wanton jest. So 
I took a seat by the bed, and just began to talk in an 
easy way about the weather, and the beautiful scenery, 
and old Sir Harry up at the Park, and all that sau- 
sage meat. Never a word said he, but lay looking at 
me out of his poor, scarecrow face. The farmer had 
stumped downstairs. 

“ Now, there’s a little proverb, Herapath — comes in 
Scripture somewhere, and there’s a lot in those Biblical 
proverbs — that talks about casting your bread upon 
the waters. I had just done a kind, decent action, and 
I wasn’t thinking of my reward. But I guess this 
boat’s floated out of that same bedroom. Old man 
listens to me, and then puts out a claw. 

“ ‘ Are you Diggory’s man? ’ said he. 

‘‘ ‘ I guess not,’ said I. 

“ ^ Then you must be my nephew,’ says he eagerly. 

“ Well, I saw how it was with him then, and how 
all my polite conversation had been thrown away; and 
just to play up to him, so to speak, I said yes, I was 
that nephew. 

“ He half rose on his elbow at that, and began search- 
ing under his pillow, and presently brings out in his 
shaking claw a piece of parchment. 

“ ‘ That’s for you,’ he said. ‘ I kept that for you till 
ye come. ’Tis what I had from Sawtell of the brig 
Dromeda* (or some such name). ‘The treasure’s 
marked,’ says he, rising higher in his excitement, and 
pointing at the paper. 

“ ‘ All right, uncle,’ said I soothingly. ‘ It’s safe with 


100 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


me. You can bet on your nephew.’ And I nodded 
and patted his hand, and soothed him down, and cheered 
him up, till he sort of settled down comfortably, and 
seemed to sleep. And then I went out, but I beheve old 
man died just then and there. Anyway, he was dead 
an hour later when they went to look. 

“ When I came down the farmer was gone, but I 
entered into talk with the landlord about the old man, 
and this was what made me study that paper pretty 
smartly presently. Old man, he said, came from these 
parts, but had followed the sea for fifty years, and had 
come home six months before and taken to his bed^ 
He had money enough, but always talked mysteriously 
of more, and inquired for his brother, who was dead 
years back, and then for his brother’s children. Well^ 
it seems they were gone too — only one was heard of 
way in New Zealand, or some place. And old man 
wrote to him, but didn’t get any answer. Anyway, it 
hadn’t come up till then. Old man talked a lot about 
money, and of an island, but, says the innkeeper: 

‘ Lord, sir, he’s been like a child these three months. 
There warn’t any sense in his poor head, poor Jarge! ^ 

“ Wasn’t there I studied that paper and came 
to the conclusion that there was, and I lit out that night 
for civilisation and a deal.” 

“The paper was the map?” I asked in astonish- 
ment. 

“ Yes, sir ; the paper contained the chart, and a 
story. It wasn’t an old parchment of the treasure- 
story tales with crosses and skulls and that truck, 


CONCERNING THE CHART 101 


not by long chalks. It was a business-like document^ 
setting forth how it had been drawn up on such a date, 
and was a plan of Santo Island, where the Caribbean 
pirates buried their treasure way back. And there was 
the signature of two or three people who had succes- 
sively come into possession of the chart, old man Glasson 
last of all, with the dates. It was kept like a book, 
I tell you. And the first name was Rinaldo Corti.” 

“ Is that all you’ve gone on ? ” I burst out, in wonder 
at this amazing faith. 

He turned on me the eyes of an enthusiast. “ Mr. 
Herapath, we’ve all got to take risks, but I reckon this 
risk was good enough. I lit out at once for fear of that 
nephew, who might be turning up from New Zealand. 
I went down the wolds or the fells, or whatever you call 
them, in a white mist of rain, and I pounded along the 
track sometimes; I was that pleased with myself. Old 
man Glasson, by the evidence of the innkeeper, had 
plenty of money, and there was his endorsement on the 
paper. ‘ December 1861 ’ ; I know it by heart, ‘ visited 
island and treasure ’; and again ‘ 5 March 1882, made 
island sunset, in Emerald; was ashore two hours. Treas- 
ure all right.’ And there was a signature also. ‘ H. 
Sawtell,’ just as the old man said it; and the ship was 
Andromeda. That looked all right, for Sawtell in 1817’ 
had ‘ took box ingots treasure ’ ; and there was other 
scribblings. Mr. Herapath,” he said, his eyes shining, 
“ what was good enough for H. Sawtell of the Andro- 
meda in 1817, and for old man Glasson in 1861 and 
1882, was good enough for Vincent Halliday. I know 


102 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


a good thing when I’m on it. I can smell it. It 
talks like Limburger on the surrounding atmosphere to 
my nose. And I tell you, this is about bursting with 
goodness.” 

He ceased. “ That’s the story. Kind of romantic, 
ain’t it.^ ” It was more than romantic; it was gro- 
tesque. 

“ It looks to me like a wild-goose chase,” I said 
bluntly. 

“ You don’t size the proposition,” said he earnestly. 
‘‘ It’s a fact that the treasure has been tapped. It was 
there all right. That’s demonstrated by the paper 
and the old man.” 

“Why was it not all removed long ago.?* ” I asked. 

“ Ah, there’s a bit of a puzzle,” he admitted. 
“ Seems to me that it was not worked systematically, 
that it was used as a sort of bank on which to draw 
cheques. Come and cut again sort of game. You see, 
this document has been handed down one, two, or maybe 
more generations, and the owner was temporarily owner 
of that island and that store. It’s not a place, I guess, 
where many ships call, and it might be awkward to put 
in there. Come to think of it, Herapath, any one 
of these dead men mightn’t have cared to face an ex- 
pedition like this of ours. There’s always a risk. The}?- 
went in for it in detail.” He pondered. “ I might have 
done that myself. But I was sort of greedy to swallow 
it all in a bite. But I might have done that myself.” 

He merged in a reverie, and I observed him. The 
story had oddly stimulated me, but had convinced me 


CONCERNING THE CHART 103 


also that we were on a madder cruise than ever. This 

proposition ” had no ethical side for Halliday, who 
was a “ smart man.” He had come into possession 
of his precious document by a mistake, even by false 
pretences, but it troubled him nothing. This was busi- 
ness, and it was his business to get ahead of a possible 
claimant in the Antipodean nephew, who might even 
now be in chase of us. 

He shook off his thoughts. “ Anyway, I’m coming 
out on top,” he said cheerfully. 

With the influence of these seas on him he was alive 
and bright again. Every hour brought his fortune 
nearer, and he walked the deck with a buoyant tread, 
as of one who could hardly be contained by narrow con- 
fines of shipboard. His soul was aloft, as upon a mast- 
head, in search of his treasure. 

The second day saw the release of McLeod, which I 
could not but attribute to Miss Sylvester. Some bar- 
gain had been struck between herself and Wade. 
The prisoner, his own master, was directed to the 
captain’s cabin, and entered it sour, sullen, but unre- 
sisting. 

“ Now, Dr. McLeod,” said Wade, at whose request 
I was there, “ I want some words with you. As cap- 
tain of this ship, and bound to maintain discipline, 
I have put you in irons. That’s my official appearance 
in the matter. Well, reckon that’s over. The irons 
were official. But, as a man, I’ve got something more 
to say. You struck me here, and now I’m going to 
knock you down.” 


104 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


McLeod lifted his head and stared. He had had no 
strong liquor for nearly two days, and was all the better 
for it. His face relaxed. 

“ Go ahead,” he said. 

Wade launched forth, but met the Scotsman’s bony 
arm in counter. His left followed like a stone, and 
was dodged with the head. McLeod’s returns went 
short, and then Wade’s short, thick arm slipped past 
the defence, and he landed on the do^^tor’s skull. Crack 
went his head against the cabin. 

“ Quits ! ” panted Wade, dropping his hands. 

A grin dawned on McLeod’s face. “ We’ll call it 
that,” he assented, and marched out of the cabin with- 
out more words. 

“ I don’t know that he’s so dangerous, after all, 
Ned,” said Wade. 

He was, however, viciously cantankerous, for having 
thus buried his feud with Wade, he must needs reopen 
one with me. Down in the saloon we encountered just 
after the scene described, and he came up. 

“ It’s about time we squared up, Mr. Herapath,” said 
he with a provocative air. 

It was possible that he was affronted by my presence 

his discomfiture. 

“ I’ve no accounts open,” I remarked tersely. 

“ Oh ! ” his voice took on a higher note and accent. 

Then I’ll take the liberty to remind ye.” He lifted 
his hand, but I put out mine to stop him. 

‘‘ Don’t be a fool,” I urged. “ There’s been more 
than enough of this already.” 


CONCERNING THE CHART 105 


‘‘ I’ll jog your memory,” he said, paying no heed, 
hut doubling his fist. 

“ Well, I don’t want to, but if you will have it ” 

I drove as I spoke. He was not far away, and I got 
him on the tip of the chin. He went down like a sack 
of wheat, and sat for some moments on the floor, blink- 
ing. Then he got up, and blinked at me, holding on to 
the table. 

“ Which hand was that.?^ ” he gasped. 

“ Left,” I answered. 

“ Then I’m not taking any more,” he replied. “ And 
I’ve got a dentist’s job on.” 

He went away in the direction of his surgery, and I 
saw him no more till the evening. But of that I shall 
have to tell in the next chapter. To say the truth, I 
had no time to think of him, being fully occupied in the 
engine-room. 

Davenant late in the afternoon ordered me to slow 
down, and we were going only some eight knots. Wade 
was asleep in his cabin, for the day was very hot and 
the breeze had sunk. The caulks of the Duncannon 
ran liquid, and the stokehole was like hell. Davenant 
never left the bridge till his watch was over at eight 
bells. But before that something happened. Byrne 
and CliflPord, strangely quiet, were on deck, watching 
the sea, and as the sun went down the latter took a 
flask from his pocket, “swigged ” at it, and passed 
it to his companion. 

The dusk fell quickly, gathering the steamer with its 
.growing folds, and then from the lookout arose the cry: 


106 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“Land ho!” 

Giving instructions to Collins, I went on deck, and 
strained my eyes through the evening. On our star- 
board side a long even shadow was visible against the 
night. Wade emerged from his cabin to take com- 
mand. Halliday was visible, a restless shadow among 
shadows, excited, nervous, confident. And a voice 
somewhere out of the darkness reached my ears. 

“ Now the fun begins, dear brethren.” 

It was Clifford’s. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE OTHER BOAT 

Wade joined Davenant on the bridge, and I went back 
to my engines, which were running now quite slowly. 
Presently they were stopped, and I heard the sound 
of the capstan. They were letting go the anchor. My 
duties were over for the nonce, and I went on deck 
again, where the whole ship’s company seemed to be as- 
sembled. With the making of the island the pubHc in- 
terest in the story of the treasure revived keenly. Knots 
of men discussed the situation, and cast glances through 
the falling dusk towards the mysterious land. Hal- 
liday was decisive and triumphant. His voice rose 
clamant through all the din. 

“ I reckon, captain. I’ll go ashore to-night,” he said. 

“ As you will,” said Wade, “ though I should advise 
you to wait till to-morrow.” 

The American laughed. “ Say, that’s asking too 
much,” he said ; and in a lower voice : “ I’d just like 
to locate that cache at the earliest opportunity.” 

Wade nodded. ‘‘ You must have been wearing out 
those old engines of yours from the pace we’ve made,” 
he said, turning to me. 

“ On the contrary,” said I, ‘‘ we slowed down this 
afternoon.” 

“ Slowed down ! ” he said in surprise. 

107 


108 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Yes ; we didn’t make more than eight knots.” 

“ Damn ! ” said he, and was thoughtful. ‘‘ I didn’t 
expect to make it for another two hours anjway,” he 
said. 

“ Well, Davenant’s done it,” I said carelessly. 
“ Here we are.” 

“ Unless he’s made a mistake — ^but that he couldn’t,” 
pronounced Wade. “ I’ll have a look at the log pres- 
ently. They’re out in their infernal sealed orders 
probably.” 

Meanwhile Halliday was giving his instructions, and 
a boat was being put out. We lay about three-quarters 
of a mile from the island, but naturally were ignorant 
of the shore-line. Wade had never seen the chart, 
or even Halliday’s transcript, and had navigated only 
by the instructions he received, which amounted merely 
to an exact latitude and longitude, so that in approach- 
ing a boat would need great precaution. 

There was competition for the boat’s crew; but Dave- 
nant chose it, and immediately upon the boat’s being 
lowered Byrne and Clifford scrambled in. Wade said 
nothing to them, but pointed them out to Halliday, who 
remarked : 

“ Well, I guess it’s due to them perhaps. They’ve got 
money in it ” ; and he added : And I’d just as soon have 
them under observation for the sake of that chart.” 

“ Do you know what sort of coast you’ve got here.^ ” 
asked Wade. 

‘‘ No,” replied Halliday. It don’t say on the chart. 
But I guess we’re all right with you.” 


THE OTHER BOAT 109 

‘‘ Oh, with me ! ” said Wade, laughing easily. ‘‘ Mar- 
ley’s good enough.” 

‘‘Why don’t you go, sir.?” asked Davenant, who 
was near. “ There’s nothing to do here.” 

“ Come along, captain,” said Halhday engagingly. 

“ Right ! ” said Wade. “ I don’t mind.” 

He stood beside the gangway and Miss Sylvester 
at that moment turned to him. “ Oh, please let me 
go,” she urged prettily. 

He hesitated. “ I’m awfully sorry,” he said, “ but 
we don’t know exactly what we’ve got here. There’s a 
bit of risk. And I daren’t take you. When we’ve found 

out — ^to-morrow. Miss Sylvester ” He descended 

the ladder, smihng back his apologies, and took his 
seat in the boat. This was now quite full, and at 
Marley’s word put off. The sound of oars came back 
to us from the darkness into which she disappeared. 

The air blew cool and friendly after the hot after- 
noon, and the Duncannon hardly moved on the smooth 
sea. There was an indefinite sense of peacefulness, 
as of a holiday mood, omnipresent in the mind. A 
concertina struck up on the lower deck, and someone 
started whistling. A noise of feet rose to us as of 
dancing. 

“ A bit merry,” said I to Digby, the boatswain. 

“ Give ’em ♦ their heads a bit,” he grumbled back. 
“ Damn bad discipline, but there’s been no discipline 
aboard this ship.” I looked at his worn face, and I 
confess I was hoping that I should not show so battered 
by fortune at his years. “ I’m an old sailor, but I’m 


110 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


not a tar,” he said with a faint humorous irony. “ I 
had my own boat at the mouth of the Thames for 
years, when I was on the Stock Exchange. We used 
to keep her and sail her as trim as a ship in His 
Ma j esty ’s^Commission.” 

I began in that instant somehow to get the per- 
spective of this expedition. You know how a phrase, 
a fact, a suggestion, will open up a situation like a key. 
“ Digby, stock-jobber,” ran into my mind, and I could 
see his zigzag descents in my mind’s eye right away 
to the possession of hi^^preposterous whistle. At thirty, 
maybe, he was partner in a prosperous firm of dealers or 
brokers; at fifty odd he was reduced to his final gam- 
ble, no doubt through the medium of other and ex- 
hausting gambles. The concertina wheezed on, and the 
strains of “ Sailing Away ” arose on the evening air 
and mingled with the water noises. Digby and I hung 
over the side of the vessel and meditated. Presently 
I was aware that Miss Sylvester had joined us, and I 
turned. 

“ Oh, what a sin to be here when we might be 
ashore ! ” she exclaimed energetically. “ I don’t know 
how you stand it.” 

“ We have to,” said I. 

“ Oh, nonsense ; I believe you don’t mind,” she said 
in her characteristic way. ‘‘ You don’t feel things. 
I just can’t bear to think of that island and the treas- 
ure being over there, and me a prisoner.” 

“ The captain must take every precaution,” I told 
her. 


THE OTHER BOAT 


111 


She sighed. “ I suppose it’s right, but Is that 

you, uncle Wouldn’t you like to be going ashore? ” 

M. Carvaulx peered through the darkness at us. 
‘‘No; yes; I do not mind,” he said absently. “It is 
pleasant listening to the music of the sailors.” He 
moved off forward, and I heard him descend to the 
lower deck. 

Just before dinner Davenant sent for me. I found 
him lying down in his bunk. 

“ Mr. Herapath,” he said in his careful voice, “ I 
have a bad attack of neuralgia, and I should be all the 
better for a sleep. I should be obliged if you would 
kindly take charge. Of course, you would call me in 
case of any emergency.” 

I assented, and withdrew after expressing a polite 
hope that he would soon recover; and then I descended 
to the saloon. At dinner we were a small party — Digby, 
McLeod, M. Carvaulx, Miss Sylvester, and myself ; but 
we were more cheerful than we had been on several 
previous occasions. The arrival at the island had stimu- 
lated our imaginations and our good humour. McLeod 
was a different man from the person I had hitherto 
known. He talked fluently and with a certain capacity 
for conversation, but mainly to Miss Sylvester and her 
uncle. The latter was abstracted and said little, but 
his niece was gay and high-spirited, joining in rallies 
with the doctor. From their attitude I thought they 
had some understanding between them, some affair in 
common, for this was betrayed at once by McLeod’s 
importance and Miss Sylvester’s significant asides. 


112 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


And I was soon let into the secret. For as soon as 
the meal was over McLeod approached me. 

“ I believe you’re in authority, Mr. Herapath,” he 
said not unpleasantly. 

“ Mr. Davenant is ill,” I said. 

“ Well, sir, I want your permission to go ashore,” 
he went on boldly, eyeing me with some aggression. 
Miss Sylvester was, so to speak, in the offing. I glanced 
at her. 

“ Is that all.? ” I asked. 

“ No,” said he promptly. “ Miss Sylvester wants to 
go. If we could have a boat and a couple of hands 
we should not be gone long.” 

“ You know it’s impossible,” I replied. 

“ Why should it be .? ” he asked, evidently restrain- 
ing himself ; ‘‘ there’s fine starhght, and the coast’s quite 
clear. It’s only a quarter of an hour away.” 

I went to the porthole and looked out, and Miss 
Sylvester joined me, eager appeal in her eyes. 

“ You will, won’t you? ” she pleaded. 

The stars in the sky shed a fine light on the still water, 
making a luminous mist towards the land. I had no 
orders from Wade or Davenant; and there did not 
seem to be any danger. Moreover, I had all along 
been placed by circumstances in a position of hostility 
to McLeod, and I was reluctant to seem to oppose him 
again. And then the girl was importunate. She was 

evidently anxious to go with this man Oh, no, I 

read her well enough up to a point. She wanted to 
land anyhow, and she would have gone ashore with a 


THE OTHER BOAT 


113 


chimney-sweep. Her immediate emotions possessed her 
like a fire. 

If you will take two safe hands,” I said, ‘‘ I think 
you may go, but I shall get a wigging.” 

She laughed joyously. “ No. I’ll make it all right 
with Captain Wade,” she said with the confidence of 
youth. “ He won’t be angry.” 

I shrugged my shoulders whimsically. “ Thanks,” 
said McLeod, nodding, and hurried on deck. 

I saw them push off a quarter of an hour later, and 
as the oars dipped in the silver water along that fairy 
pathway of the stars I was reassured as to the safety 
of the expedition. The island was plainly discernible, 
white shafts of light lying upon a wooded cliff. Light 
laughter drifted from the boat upon the nocturnal air. 

At nine o’clock I heard the sound of a boat through 
the open porthole of my cabin, and I went on deck. 
The sky was now obscured with banks of clouds, but 
the night was pervaded by a dim luminosity. As I 
reached the gangway some figures were coming up the 
ladder, though I could not make out which they were. 
I expected my boat back by now, and I was looking 
anxiously for a woman’s skirt. Then I heard Clifford’s 
unmistakable voice. 

“ Cheese it, Byrne. You damn near had me over. 
Say, I want a drink badly.” 

So here was the captain back, and I was in for a 
reprimand. I confess I did not want to see him just 
then, for I had not anticipated his return before the 
others, and I knew enough of his nature to realise that 


114 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


he would be far more angry, because McLeod had ac- 
companied Miss Sylvester, than because I had allowed 
the expedition. I was in for it thus on two counts; 
and so I went below again, whither Byrne and Clifford 
had already gone. The popping of a cork sounded 
in my ears. 

“ Here’s how,” said the Irishman. 

“ Here’s to success — success and treasure — ^my 
dear,” said Clifford, winking over the bubbling glass. 

“ Herapath, have a drink.” 

I shook my head, but to be civil, asked : “ How’s the 
island? ” 

Clifford swore profusely. “ It’s all tommy rot,” he said. 

“What, the treasure?” said 1. 

“No; the island. ’Tisn’t the island at all. The 
real island’s farther on. We tumbled to that pretty 
quick when we got ashore. You’ve got to make tracks 
at once, old man. The old man’s got his shirt out.” 

“ The wrong island? ” I exclaimed in astonishment, 
and then could not keep back a slight laugh. So this 
was the first-fruits of Halliday’s expedition. Even his 
chart was wrong in the initial point. 

“ That’s funny, ain’t it? ” said Clifford jocosely. 

“ It is funny,” said I. 

“ I guess it’s funnier than you know,” he sneered. 

Down the steps came the man Crashaw, with his 
bold eyes. 

“ Captain’s compliments,” said he, “ and he would be 
obliged if you’d get up steam at once, sir.” 

“ Where is the captain ? ” said I. 


THE OTHER BOAT 


115 


“ In his cabin, changing, sir,” said the man. 

“Fell into a jolly old bog or backwater, or some- 
thing,” said the jovial Clifford. “ Here, I’ll trouble 
you for that bottle, my fidus Achates.^' 

I went on deck, and almost ran into Davenant. “ I 
hear the island’s wrong,” he said. “ I didn’t put much 
trust in that chart. We’ve got to march.” 

“ Are you going on the bridge ? ” I asked. “ How’s 
your neuralgia ? ” 

“ Pretty bad still. I’ve got orders from Wade,” he 
answered. 

“ Well, we can’t go at once,” said I, feeling now 
mighty uncomfortable. 

“ Why.? ” said he. 

“ The fact is Miss Sylvester and McLeod are ashore,” 
I replied, feeling still more foolish. 

“ What ? ” he cried sharply in a voice that was new 
to me. 

“ I let ’em go. It was my fault. Now I’ve got to 
see Wade and explain.” 

“ What the devil right had you to take that liberty ? ” 
he demanded in a voice of compressed fury. 

I had been discomfited, but this was the sort of op- 
position I wanted. 

“ If it comes to that,” I replied warmly, “ I was in 
charge and I am answerable only to the captain.” 

He turned aside quickly and stood looking towards 
the island. 

“ This is damned awkward, Herapath,” he said at 
last in another tone. 


110 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I know it,” I said. “ I’ve got to stand the racket. 
And I’ll go to Wade now.” 

“ Wait a bit,” he said. ‘‘ I don’t see why you should, 
after all, take all the blame. I was in authority. It’s 
my affair. At any rate, let me see Wade.” 

No,” I replied. “ Why should you.^ I don’t mind 
facing the music. I’m responsible.” And I swung 
about to go to Wade’s cabin. 

Davenant followed me. 

“ Better not,” he urged. “ Tell him later. I’ll break 
the force of it.” 

“ My dear Mr. Davenant,” I said, “ I am much 
obliged to you, but I never yet endeavoured to avoid 
the obligation of my own acts. Wade wants to steam 
off, and he can’t, and I’ve got to explain why.” 

“ All right, my dear sir,” he assented, falling away 
all of a sudden to his old particularity of deportment, 
and vanished along the deck. 

I knocked at Wade’s door, but received no answer; 
then I knocked louder, but still got no reply. I re- 
membered what Clifford had said about a bog, and I 
concluded that the captain was changing in his farther 
room. So I pushed open this door and entered his 
office. The door inside the sleeping-cabin stood open, 
and showed me an empty room. 

I wondered if Wade had gone down to the saloon 
since I left it; and vaguely supposed he might even 
be on the bridge. But as he was evidently not in his 
cabin I left, and encountered the steward at the door. 

“ Is the captain about ? ” I asked. 


THE OTHER BOAT 


117 


“ I think he’s forward, sir,” said Heaven. 

I went forward, descending to the lower deck, where 
the hands were busy. Digby was there, whistle in 
hand, getting out the sail on the Duncannon's two 
masts. 

“ Where’s the captain ? ” I asked. 

He shook his head. “ I don’t know,” he grumbled. 

“ Someone’s made a mess of it. Not the island, eh.^^ 
I thought Davenant didn’t know as much as he lets 
on to.” 

“ Davenant ! ” I echoed. 

“Yes. He navigated us here, didn’t he.^^ And now 
we’ve got to up-anchor at this time of night.” 

The sound of the capstan had been audible for some 
time, and Digby, watching, issued an order as the 
anchor appeared in the bows. 

“You don’t know where Captain Wade is?” I 
asked. 

“ Haven’t seen him since he came aboard,” said 
Digby, turning away. 

I resolved now to go down to the saloon in my search, 
and if that should be drawn blank, to seek Marley. 
But I had not gone far when a familiar noise greeted 
my ears, and under my feet rose a vibration. The 
engines had been started, and the screw was turning. 

Uttering an exclamation I redoubled my steps, cast- 
ing a glance through the darkness at the bridge, if 
so be I might make out Wade’s figure there. I could 
only conclude that Collins had received his orders 
through the tube, and that the captain was in charge. 


118 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


It was a most embarrassing situation, and I ran up the 
ladder precipitately with a renewal of my discomfiture. 
« Captain Wade ! ” I called. “ Captain Wade ! ” And 
then I perceived that it was not Wade. A silent figure 
stood, wheel in hand, and near him was Davenant. 
“ Davenant, what’s this.?” said I. ‘‘She’s in mo- 
tion, and there’s that boat not arrived. Where’s 
Wade.? ” 

“ Didn’t you find him .? ” he asked. “ I supposed it 
was all right. I haven’t had any further orders.” 

“ I can’t find him,” I said anxiously, “ and the ship 
mustn’t start till I do.” 

“ I can’t interfere with my orders,” he said, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. 

The propeller was moving fast, and we were forging 
ahead. 

“ But you must,” I said desperately. 

“ My dear sir, don’t talk nonsense,” he said sooth- 
ingly. “ You know I’m bound to go on till Wade 
countermands his order.” 

“ But,” I said, “ the girl is ashore with McLeod and 
two hands.” 

“ It’s very unfortunate,” he said stiffly. “ Better 
find Wade.” 

“ Oh, well, it’s no use dealing with a d d pedant,” 

I threw at him as I fled. 

I rattled down to the deck. If Wade was not to be 
unearthed, at least I would get hold of Marley, and I 
hastened to his cabin. It was empty. And just here 
it was that I began to scent something. I could not 


THE OTHER BOAT 


119 


clearly think out what it was, for my brain was in too 
much of a whirl, but I knew I had a subconscious feel- 
ing of alarm. Neither Wade nor Marley was to be 
found, and the Duncannon was gathering speed. There 
was only one course to take, and I took it. I scurried 
into the engine-room, and stopped the engines. Collins, 
mopping his face with a greasy rag, looked at me 
questioningly. 

“ Something wrong,” I said. “ I can’t say what. 
Who started you.^” 

“ Mr. Davenant,” said he. 

The whistle blew on the speaking tube, and I took 
it up. 

“ What the devil’s this ? ” demanded Daven ant’s 
voice. What’s gone wrong with your engines ? ” 

“ I stopped them,” I said back. 

“ How the devil dare you ? ” he called in a fury, 
“ You shall smart for this — damn you, it’s insubordina- 
tion.” 

His voice ceased, and I heard shouting on deck. 

“ See here, Collins,” I said. “ Don’t you start her till 
I give orders. This is my affair. I sha’n’t be long.” 
I ran on deck. The Duncannon, her canvas spread fore 
and aft, was lumbering slowly away. Davenant, just 
visible on the bridge, stood with one arm lifted, shout- 
ing an order. From the saloon ascended a noise of 
singing. 

“ I’ve mide up my mind to sile awy — sile awy ” 

It was the ribald hilarity of Byrne and Clifford, hu- 
morously disguised in a cockney accent. I went back. 


120 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Where was Halliday ? I had seen nothing of him either. 
I met the slow-moving Carter near the entrance. 

Have you seen Captain Wade since he came 
aboard ? ” I asked. 

“ No, sir,” he said after a pause. 

“ Mr. Marley ? ” 

No, sir,” after another pause. 

“ Mr. Halliday.? ” 

His pause was less this time, and he lowered his voice. 
“ I never seed any of ’em come aboard,” he said. 

I sprang down to the engine-room, and reversed the 
levers. 

“ Back her,” I said to Collins ; “ we’re in Queer 
Street.” The screw began to rumble, and the Dun- 
cannon struggled against her sails. The wind was draw- 
ing freely in them, but the screw was powerful enough 
to counteract them. Round she swung suddenly, with 
a loud report of a boom breaking. An outcry arose on 
deck. No message came through the tube. It was 
no time now for remonstrance and argument, or even 
for objurgation. It was war. 

I heard the noise first, and almost had anticipated it. 
When I turned, halfway down the ladder was the man 
Crashaw, and behind him others, one or two of the 
foreigners in the crew. 

“ Captain Wade’s orders, eh, Crashaw.? ” I said, grin- 
ning. He sprang down at that with an oath, and 
was followed by his friends. The space was restricted 
in that small engine-room, and Collins, who was nearer 
to him than I, dodged by the help of a rail. Crashaw 


THE OTHER BOAT 121 

stumbled, and would have fallen, had not it been for the 
man behind who caught him. 

Mutiny ! by heaven ! ” said I, and let my fist drive 
at him. It took the second man on his nose, and he 
went over into a corner, dragging Crashaw down with 
him. I advanced, and lunged right and left, and the 
men gave away. 

“ Strike him, you damn fool ! ” called out Crashaw ; 
and in the mellay of bodies I saw a bare knife, though 
I could not say who had drawn it. 

Crashaw rose now, and drew towards me, but kept 
out of range for the moment. A piece of iron struck 
me sidewise on the shoulder, and made me stagger, 
and at that there was a rush forward. I struck out 
with all my force, once, twice, three times, and cries 
arose from under the feet of the pack, who were playing 
football with their own wounded. But to this they were 
savagely indifferent, being now infiamed with the lust 
of fighting. A big black Italian made for me, marline- 
spike in hand, and simultaneously the knife gleamed — 
Crashaw was edging to the back of me. Then there 
was a hoarse scream of rage and pain, and the press 
gave. Yells and oaths ensued. I glanced to where 
Collins stood, armed with a syringe and a vessel of boil- 
ing water. The squirt played again upon their un- 
protected bodies, and they stampeded for the ladder. 

“ Bravo, man ! ” I panted. ‘‘ Bravo ! ” 

Those in the rear were scuttling up the ladder when 
from the grating above a voice rang out, thin but 
penetrating. 


122 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ What in God’s name is this ? ” It was Davenant, 
staring down into the cockpit. “ Herapath, you’re 
running the boat on the island, man. Damn it, is this 
Bedlam? ” 

The men slunk past him. I stopped the engines, 
and leaned breathlessly over the railing. “ A mutiny ! ” 
I panted. I climbed the ladder, and came face to face 
with him. 

“ Perhaps this situation can be explained,” he said 
sarcastically. 

“ I don’t know about that,” I answered, trying to 
make out his face, which was like that of a sphinx. 
“ I don’t understand all this. I’ve told you how 
things stand. We can’t leave that boat behind. And 
you fight me on the point.” 

‘‘ I? ” he said, staring, and a dry smile passed over 
his face like a cat’s-paw. ‘‘These men? I suppose I 
shall get at it presently, when you condescend to ex- 
plain. Meanwhile, I’ve managed to get you to spare 
the ship. And meanwhile I want to know where 
Wade is.” 

“ I don’t believe he is on board,” I said slowly. 

He turned about sharply. “Are you serious?” he 
asked. 

“ I told you there was something aboard,” I said. 
“ And we’ve run up against the beginnings of a pretty 
tall plot, I guess.” 

“ Come out of this, and let’s talk,” said he quickly, 
and led the way on deck. 

The Duncannon was adrift, her sails backed, and only 


THE OTHER BOAT 


1^3 


a little way on her; and in the faint light the island 
was now more plainly visible. I heard in that moment 
a sound come in from sea, and went to the side. 

“ There’s the boat,” I said. The sound came up 
now as a hail. It challenged us, and the big port light 
of the Duncannon swung round as if in answer. Dave- 
nant stood beside me looking into the water, and pres- 
ently something was dimly discernible upon it. It drew 
nearer, and then came alongside. 

When Wade came up the side he was speechless with 
fury, white and dead of face. He handed Miss Syl- 
vester aboard, and marched direct to his cabin. 

“ I’ll see to this — I’ll see to this,” was all he said, in 
an expressionless voice. 

Marley followed him. ‘‘ This is the limit,” he said as 
he passed me. “ There’ll be murder done.” 

“ Clifford and Byrne ” I asked. 

“ The whole blamed crew,” he returned. It was a 
clear case of marooning.” 

Within two minutes we were in Wade’s cabin, like 
schoolboys before a master. His high-coloured face was 
livid. 

“ Mr. Marley, make sail,” he said formally in a hard, 
dry voice. 

Marley hesitated. ‘‘ Well, I’ll have a shot for it,” 
he said. “ But what about these brutes ” 

“ Those are your orders,” said Wade, and turned his 
glare on Davenant. 

“ I find the Duncannon up-anchored,” he said 
sternly. “ What’s this? ” 


IM 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ I received instructions purporting to come from 
you, after the return of the boat,” replied Davenant. 

“From whom?” snapped Wade. 

“ Crashaw,” he answered. 

“ Crashaw ! ” he echoed. “ Crashaw gave instruc- 
tions purporting to come from me? ” He rang a bell, 
and issued a command to the sailor who answered. 
“ Tell the boatswain to have Crashaw put in irons.” 

He was going to brave it out, to bluflp his way 
through, though he must have known by now how pre- 
cariously he stood. Was this hand also one of the muti- 
neers? He saluted and left. Wade eyed us both. 

“ Listen,” he said. “ A dehberate attempt to ma- 
roon Mr. Halliday, Mr. Marley, and myself was made 
this evening. While we were absent on the island ex- 
ploring the boat put off, and left us. If it had not 

been for the second boat ” he broke off. “ Who 

sent the second boat? ” he demanded. 

“ I gave permission to Dr. McLeod to take Miss Syl- 
vester ashore,” I replied. “ There seemed to be no 
risk.” 

“ I don’t go into that, as it spoiled the plot,” he said. 

I want to know why you took authority from Crashaw, 
Mr. Davenant, to make sail.” 

“ Well, I heard the boats had arrived,” said the sec- 
ond officer, “ and I naturally assumed you had come 
aboard. I was unfortunately lying down with bad 
neuralgia, and Mr. Herapath was in charge. And so, 
on Crashaw coming to me, I concluded the orders were 
all right, and I got up and made sail.” 


THE OTHER BOAT 


125 


It sounded so easy and natural, yet I do not know if 
it was only his suave voice that irritated me. 

“ And you.'* ” said Wade, abruptly to me. 

I almost stammered. “ Crashaw came to me too.” 

I saw Davenant’s cat’s-paw smile and felt furious. 
We were in the same boat, and we had both lent too 
ready an ear to this bold ruffian. 

Wade looked contemptuous, but he had lost some of 
his white heat. “ The first thing is to see how far this 
mutiny’s gone,” he said. 

Marley here put his head in at the door. “ I say, old 
man,” he said, addressing me, “ let the old kettle go, 
will you ? ” 

‘‘ Damnation, Mr. Marley, what does this mean, 
sir? ” cried Wade, his temper flaring up a sudden in an 
unexpected channel. “ Do you suppose you are in a 
rancid taproom or a crimping-house? ” 

Marley looked at him good-naturedly enough. No ; 
but I reckon there’s some putrid company aboard us,” 
he grumbled. That boat-load’s gone.” 

“ Gone! ” echoed Wade. 

“ Yes ; vamoosed, invisible — gone like rats to their 
holes.” 

“ By God, this is mutiny,” said Wade, drawing a 
long breath. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE DESERTION 

“ I THINK,” said I as we looked at each other, that 
perhaps Mr. Halliday ought to be here.” 

“ That’s so, Ned,” said Wade, dropping of a sudden 
all his official manner. “ Marley, let’s have him in. 
This is shaping pretty badly, gentlemen.” 

“ I don’t seem to get the hang of it,” said Davenant. 

“ We’ll have it all out,” said Wade drily, and said 
no more till Halliday arrived. 

He had a restless, excited look, and carried himself 
uneasily. 

“ I was just taking a cup of coffee,” he explained, 
“ and then I was coming to consult with you, captain.” 

“ We’ve got all our consulting cut out for us,” said 
Wade curtly. “ Let’s figure out the facts first. Hera- 
path, start those engines, and Mr. Marley takes charge 
of the bridge.” 

I started them, handed them over to Collins, and re- 
turned. 

“First,” Wade was saying, “your chart’s stolen; 
second, you’re marooned. I’ll guarantee it don’t take 
long to get the connection between these two facts.” 

“You are sure about the marooning, captain?” 
asked Halliday, looking troubled. 

“ Sure ! ” he sniffed. “ So sure you can sit down in 
126 


THE DESERTION 127 

it. That boat was deliberately pulled back, and you 
and I and Marley were the intended victims.” 

“ It’s been very well organised,” I interposed. “ No 
sooner has the boat arrived without you than Mr. 
Davenant and I receive orders, supposed to come from 
the captain, just returned, to get the ship under 
way.” 

“That so?” said Halliday, staring. 

“And when I refuse to get her going, because an- 
other boat is out, I am attacked and man-handled by a 

gang of mutineers ” Davenant’s eyes had gone 

about to me, but I had not mentioned him. Wade ex- 
claimed. 

“What?” he called. Halliday ’s eyes bulged out. 

“ It’s time we put it down as serious,” I went on. 
“ The object was clearly to get away from the island 
before you could make your escape by the boat which I 
had fortunately allowed ashore. Whoever is at the 
bottom of this will not stick at much. We had a nar- 
row escape in the engine-room.” 

“ By Jove! ” exclaimed Davenant. “ Was that it? ” 

“ It means,” said Wade bluffly, “ that the parties at 
the back of this want this treasure of yours for them- 
selves, and are not relying exactly on any signed docu- 
ments.” 

“ It spells all that, captain,” said Halliday gravely. 
“ It spells every word of that.” 

“And the question is, who are they? ” 

We looked at each other. “ We’ve got Crashaw. 
He’s in it clearly,” said Davenant. 


128 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ As clearly McLeod isn’t,” I added. ‘‘ We have 
done him an injustice. He is not the thief.” 

“ Tick him off,” said Wade. “ That missing boat- 
load’s in it.” His eyes caught mine. “ We’re bound 
to suspect everyone.” 

“ Meanwhile, captain,” said I, there’s no insubor- 
dination aboard now apparently. The deck’s quiet. 
And we’re running away from the island. I don’t un- 
derstand it. Why were you marooned.^ ” 

Wade grinned, his formality again lapsing. “ It’s a 
pretty good game, I take it, when considered all round. 
The inventor has a pretty turn for plotting. That 
wasn’t the island.” 

“ Not ! ” I exclaimed in surprise. 

“ Mr. Davenant,” went on Wade, “ I don’t under- 
stand how you made that mistake.” 

“ There was no mistake, sir,” said Davenant. “ The 
latitude and longitude were all right. You’ll see 
to-morrow.” 

Wade reflected. “ We’ll see a good deal to-morrow, 
or I’m mistaken,” he said. 

Davenant displayed his cat’s-paw smile. “ I should 
say there was a strong tow off the island,” he said. 
“ We nearly backed into her.” 

He threw a glance across at me, but I said nothing. 
After all, what was the use of renewing an unpleasant- 
ness that was past.^ We had enough to do in facing 
the situation as it was, uncomplicated by differences 
between officers. He and I had both been victims, and 
the chief offender was in irons. 


THE DESERTION 


129 


“ They took it pretty easily,” said Marley in relating 
his experience to us. “ They looked on merely ; per- 
haps it’s not so bad as we thought.” 

If we were to judge by his conduct that was Wade’s 
notion, for he got up presently, and reached for his 
cap. 

“ Now, about this missing crew,” he said firmly. 

“ Better let it alone to-night,” I suggested. I was 
not convinced, like Marley, of the mild temper of the 
mutineers. 

“ Let it alone ! ” he snorted. “ Do you think I’m 
going to be browbeat on my own ship.?^ I’ll have that 
gang in irons.” 

Davenant adjusted his spectacles, and said nothing. 
Marley looked doubtful. 

“ I’d let sleeping dogs lie,” he remarked. 

“ Very possibly you would, Mr. Marley,” said Wade 
acidly. ‘‘ But you’re not captain of this ship.” 

He went out, and we followed. Digby’s whistle gave 
the order for “ all hands on deck,” and they marshaled 
docilely enough. 

“ Hammond — Carsch ” Wade rang out the 

names. “ Step forward ! ” 

To this there was no response. The scene resembled 
the other scene earlier in the voyage. The same silence 
prevailed, but now somehow it seemed more ominous. 

“ Hammond, are you there.?* ” called Wade. Silence 
answered him. 

He repeated the other names, and still the ranks were 
mute. Wade’s nostrils worked. I touched his arm. 


130 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


This would serve no purpose, and I feared his precipi- 
tate temper. 

“ Get away,” he said roughly, and leaned over. 
“ You, Rogers, and you, Vasselli, take what is neces- 
sary, and go down into the saloon and arrest Mr. Byrne 
and Mr. Clifford.” 

There was a momentary hesitation on the part of the 
men, and then they fell out, and climbed the ladder to 
the upper deck. 

“Wade, Wade!” I said in remonstrance. “You 
have no proof. They were not in charge of the boat. 
It was Crashaw.” 

“ I’ll have my way,” he thundered. “We know 
they’re the head and front of it. I’m master here, and, 
by God, they shall know it.” 

“ A little bit of sugar for the bird,” sang a voice 
behind, and Clifford emerged in the hands of Rogers. 
Immediately behind him followed Byrne in the other 
sailor’s grasp. Broad grins adorned both coun- 
tenances. “ Am I agoing to walk the blooming 
plank ” inquired Clifford. 

“ What’s the joke.^ ” inquired Byrne. 

“ The joke,” said Wade, “ is this, that you are ar- 
rested by my orders for encouraging and participating 
in a mutiny.” 

“ Mutiny 1 Great Scott 1 ” cried Clifford. “ Where’s 
the adjective mutiny? We are getting quite interest- 
ing characters, Byrne, my boy.” 

Wade made a gesture with his hands, dismissing the 
prisoners with their guards, but Byrne asked bluntly : 


THE DESERTION 


161 


“ Are we to be put in irons ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Wade. His anger had abated, and I 
don’t think he was comfortable at the way his coup was 
being taken. 

“ Crikey ! ” said Clifford. “We shall perish in a 
dungeon. Never mind, old cock, 

‘ Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor iron bars a cage.’ 

Take it out of that, Byrne. We’re blooming con- 
spirators, we are. Off with their heads ! So much for 
Buckingham! Where’s the adjective Tower ” 

They passed to the lower deck in this grotesque cus- 
tody, ostentatiously marking time with heavy stamp- 
ing, a cheerful pair of scoundrels. The whole thing was 
a farce, and now Wade must have recognised that. 

“ This treadmill work’s awful, kind friends and 
Christians.” Clifford’s irrepressible voice came up to 
us. Wade’s brow clouded, and he turned away 
abruptly. He had been worsted. But the lower deck 
was now quiet silent. All the indications were those of 
farce, not of tragedy. 

It is not to be supposed that Miss Sylvester could 
be kept out of all this excitement. On the contrary, 
she was an interested witness. I had not spoken to 
her since her return, for she had been in her cabin, and 
I had been fully occupied. But after the curtain had 
fallen on this extravaganza, and outward quietude 
reigned, she came up to me. 


132 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Oh, is it a mutiny really, Mr. Herapath.?* ’’ she 
asked in excitement. 

‘‘ I believe there are the makings of one,” I said 
grimly, for I did not understand that lightness of 
temperament which would regard all events as staged 
for its enjoyment. She had a dozen questions to 
deliver, and a dozen fears and hopes to express. It 
was youth, irresponsible youth, and nothing more. Life 
had so far appeared to this girl as a drama which she 
could witness from the stalls. But life would assume 
other aspects for her some day, and as I talked I won- 
dered if this very expedition was to be the occasion of 
her instruction. 

She rambled on. ‘‘ We were just putting off when 
Dr. McLeod said ‘ Hulloa, there ! ’ as he heard a noise 
in the bushes; and then Captain Wade, and Mr. 
Marley, and Mr. Halliday burst through, and told us. 
Those wretched sailors had run away with their boat. 
Fancy ! What do you suppose they wanted, Mr. 
Herapath.^ And why has Captain Wade arrested Mr. 
Byrne and Mr. Chfford.f^ I hate Mr. Clifford, but that 
Irishman seems amusing. Oh, I should just think the 
island was lovely. Where are we going now.?’ ” 

I told her that we were going to the real island, at 
which she remarked : ‘‘ Fancy that not being the real 
island ! But I never could tell how you sailors find your 
way on the sea from a little piece of paper and a 
compass. I don’t mind how it’s done so long as I get 
there.” 

She raised her sweet childish eyes to mine, and once 


THE DESERTION 


13S 


more I felt that I should not criticise her as if she were 
a grown woman. She had had some acquaintance with 
life, but no experience of it, and she was obviously as 
innocent as a kitten, and as simple-minded. She had 
almost forgotten that she was to get to Baltimore, and 
with it the loss of her wardrobe. She ate sweets that 
troubled night, and looked charming in the starlight, 
as we paced the deck. Wade had retired in dudgeon, 
and Davenant followed his example. 

Marley had taken his place on the bridge. ‘‘ This 
is a fine raree-show,” he said as he passed me. 

The big machine, that is a ship, was working noise- 
lessly, placidly, and without the suggestion of a defect; 
the forecastle was still as a mouse. It was close on 
midnight when I turned in. 

I was awakened by the splash of water in my face. 
The porthole in my cabin was always open save in rough 
weather, and at first I thought that the wind had got 
up and challenged the sea. Rising on my elbow I 
peered out. It was quite dark still, save for the stars, 
and I guessed that I had not been asleep more than an 
hour. The sea stretched calmly into the night. I put 
my head to the porthole, and then I heard voices. 

They were voices pitched low, as if unwilling to be 
overheard, and they came from a boat which I could 
hear grinding and bumping against the side of the 
steamer quite near by. I got up, now fully alert and 
curious, and hastily dressing turned out into the saloon. 
At the top of the companion ladder I found the doors 
locked. Now, afire with suspicions, I roused McLeod, 


134 


THE DEVIL*S PULPIT 


and we tried the doors together, without avail. Back I 
went to my cabin, and looked out by the porthole. I 
could still hear the boat bumping, and the voices. 

McLeod, who had taken his station at another port- 
hole, came running to me. 

“ Man, they’re making off,” he said. “ They’re 
passing provisions over the side.” 

I nodded. “They’re levanting,” I said. “Get 
Davenant up, and I’ll keep watch.” 

We roused Davenant, who joined us at once in a state 
of considerable excitement. Halliday’s cabin was on 
deck, as was Wade’s. We all watched. The light was 
too dim to make out much, but it was clear that the 
mutineers were going to desert the ship. With what 
object.? 

Suddenly our query was answered. Up till now we 
had not been sensible of the screw, but now we were 
made so, for it stopped. Every one knows that the only 
time the screw makes itself felt is when it ceases. It 
ceased now. 

“ By God,” said McLeod suddenly, whacking his 
thigh in his tempestuous manner. “ By God, I can 
guess. Here’s the island ! That’s their little game.” 

“ And they have the chart,” said I. 

We looked at each other. 

Just then a noise came from the saloon, and I hurried 
in. The cessation of the propeller had wakened the 
Frenchman and Miss Sylvester. 

“ Is anything the matter ? Oh, is it all right .? ” she 
cried; and through the half-opened door I could just 


THE DESERTION 


135 


see her white-robed form, and the bronze hair about her 
face. It was the piteous cry of the child who has awoke 
to fright. I soothed her fears. 

“ Only that we’ve reached the island,” I said. 

“ The island ! ” she exclaimed delightedly ; and im- 
pulsively threw open the door and took one step for- 
ward. I knew she had forgotten everything in her 
delirium of delight. She had the supreme faculty of 
losing herself, her self-consciousness and all, in the 
intoxication of the moment’s emotion. 

“ But it is dark, and you can see nothing, and I 
advise you strongly to finish your sleep,” I said prosa- 
ically. She stopped ; then remembered, and retired in a 
little pretty confusion. I rejoined the others, anxious 
now that something should be done. 

“ It’s impossible to break down the doors,” McLeod 
was saying. “ Herapath and I tried.” 

“ It’s devilish sitting here and doing nothing,” said 
Davenant restlessly. “ If we could only get out we 
could soon bring them to their senses.” 

“Do you think so.?” I asked. “I guess it’s gone 
deeper than that. This is a big sore — ^it’s gangrene.” 

He eyed me. “ Why do you think so.? ” he inquired. 

“ Oh, symptoms,” I said carelessly, for that was not 
what mattered just now. Our business was to get out 
of our prison and alarm Wade. Then an idea came to 
me. “ If you’ll hold on to my legs I think I can get 
through and climb up,” I said. 

McLeod’s eyes took my measure. “ You’ll never get 
through with those shoulders,” he said. 


136 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ I can manage it by edging and coaxing,” I 
answered. 

“ Right ! ” he said suddenly, and pushed open the 
window farther. 

I jerked myself upon the upper bimk, and put my 
head out of the porthole, taking the strong sea wind 
that stung in the nostrils fragrantly. Then I began 
carefully to wriggle. As McLeod had suggested, my 
shoulders were the difficulty. If I could get them 
through the long length of my limbs would clear the 
opening easily. I turned, rolled over, shifted and 
screwed one shoulder higher than the other, in the at- 
tempt to go out, as one extricates a table from a room 
— crosswise. I wrenched one arm halfway out, and 
then I stuck. My legs were shoved hard at me, as if 
McLeod and Davenant would ram and batter me out. 
I had the most discomfortable sense in the world at that 
moment that I should never be released from that 
‘‘jam.” And then I put forward all my strength. If 
I was to be got free it might as well be on the outside 
as the inside. The sash bit into my flesh; my chest 
contracted painfully; there was a rip, and I was 
free 

I was more than free. I had overdone it, or at least 
my coadjutors had. As I went through I felt a tre- 
mendous thrust of my legs, and I shot out like a pellet, 
wildly flinging forth my arms. I was bound for the 
sea, beyond a doubt, and I struck it just slantwise below 
the porthole. The cold fresh salt of the sea rose to 
receive me, and I went down into that hospitable bosom. 


THE DESERTION 


137 


When I rose again it was some distance away from the 
bow of the Duncannon, for which I struck out. The 
ship was adrift evidently, and was making for the 
island on a strong tide. When I reached her side I 
began to swim softly round, looking for some means of 
boarding her. The boat was forward now, and was 
still being loaded, as I could gather from the light on 
the bulwarks. Aft I hit upon a trailing rope, and by 
its assistance gained the deck unobserved. After a 
moment’s pause to recover myself I made for the cap- 
tain’s cabin ; I could make out the dim mass of the land 
on the starboard quarter. 

Wade’s door was locked, and his windows were barri- 
caded from the outside. The mutineers had taken 
every precaution. He was a close and helpless pris- 
oner. The jamb of the door, which opened inward, 
would effectually prevent Wade from breaking out, but 
it would not prevent me from breaking in. I put my 
shoulder to it steadily — the unbruised shoulder — and 
gradually pressed. It gave with some little cracking 
noise, and I heard Wade’s voice: 

I am armed, and, by thunder. I’ll fire.” 

“ It’s me — Ned,” I called back to him in a whisper, 
and he exclaimed. I stepped through the ruins of the 
door, and pushed it to. “ Have you a light ? It won’t 
be seen from the inner cabin.” 

We felt our way there, and Wade struck a match and 
lit a lamp. “ They’re thorough,” he said grimly, indi- 
cating the barred window there also. “ But it keeps 
our light from them.” 


138 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ We’re barred in below too,” I said ; and I told him 
our adventures. 

“ It’s a bigger business than I expected,” he re- 
marked quite coolly. “ And now for action.” 

I pulled him roughly back, for he was on his way to 
the door. ‘‘ Good Lord, man, what are you at.^^ It’s 
running on your own fate.” 

“ Oh, they’ll never go as far as that. Besides, I’m 
armed,” he said bluffly. 

Won’t they.? ” I returned. “ Don’t you depend on 
that. They’ve put their heads deep enough in the dock 
already, and they can’t turn back. The odds are 
they’ll go to the logical end of their recklessness now.” 

“ Damn it, I can’t do nothing,” he said angrily ; and 
then : “ It’s well organised. I wonder who’s at the 
bottom. It can’t be that drunken scoundrel Clifford.” 

“ It might be Byrne,” I said. “ I don’t seem to know 
much of him. How did they get you locked up ? ” 

“ I turned out at two bells, and was seized as I opened 
the door, and bound until they’d done this carpenter’s 
job. Then they thrust me in, damn ’em.” 

He scowled, and looked at his pistol again. Just 
then a heavy splash sounded in our ears. “ There’s the 
anchor,” said Wade. ‘‘ That’ll keep us off the shore 
anyway.” 

I went cautiously to the broken door, and peered out. 
The light was still in the rigging, but the boat had 
gone. I could hear the sounds of oars borne on the 
night air. I went back. 

“ They’ve gone,” I told Wade. “ Now we can do 


THE DESERTION 139 

something. Wade, there’s poor Marley. What’s come 
to him.? ” 

Damn it, he may be in it for all I know,” he retorted 
savagely. 

“ No, he’s not,” said I ; and I’m going to look him 
up. Meanwhile you’d better do the same by Halliday.” 

I left him, and stole along the deck to the foot of the 
bridge without being challenged, and indeed without 
hearing any human sound. I ascended, and found 
Marley’s body lying flat below the wheel. He was 
bound and gagged, and I released him. He sat up 
weakly. 

“That you, old man.?” he said in a dazed voice. 
“ They landed me well. Great Scott, they socked it 
me hard ! ” 

“ What happened.? ” 

“ Why, this damned son of a gun at the wheel got 
me on the head, and I went do^vn like a polled ox. 
I don’t remember any more till I came to with this bridle 
on. Sakes, it aches ! ” 

I helped him down, explaining the situation. It ap- 
peared that no sooner had Marley made the land than 
the mutineers acted. They delivered their blow at once 
and effectually; and now they were gone ashore with a 
large store of provisions and — the chart. 

That was the point on which we had to flx our eyes, 
and we did. Wade had released Halliday, and went 
forward to make investigations, with his revolver in his 
hand, while I went to the saloon to free the others. 

“ After all,” said Wade, “ there must be some who 


140 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


(drew the line at mutiny, though I’m sure I couldn’t 
guess who.” 

By the time I had broken into the saloon I heard his 
voice above calling on me. 

It’s a bit better than we thought,” he said when I 
had joined him. There’s some faithful hands yet. 
The forecastle was untenanted, but a knocking came 
from the men’s quarters. Ten of ’em had been locked 
in — same old wheeze; they said they’d been awoke to 
hear hammering and to find Crashaw in charge.” 

“What, is that beast free?” said Marley. 

“What do you think?” returned Wade. “I don’t 
believe they put up any fight. They look as mild as 
milk. God! It’s sickening! Well, Mr. Halliday, this 
is a nice ‘ bean feast.’ ” He broke off to greet the 
American, whose eyes were unnaturally lighted, and 
who had something in his hand. 

“ I’ve brought this duplicate I drew up myself,” he 
said, “ and I reckon, captain, you can make up 
with it.” 

“ It’s a bit late in the day,” said Wade carelessly, 
but he looked at the map which Halliday unfolded. 
“Now, my dear sir,” he said with studied sarcasm, 
“ why the devil didn’t you trot this out at the begin- 
ning? We shouldn’t have tumbled into the wrong 
island, and I reckon we should have had a good chance 
of being out of the present dilemma.” 

I didn’t exactly guess that those markings signified 
anything particular,” said Halliday deprecatingly ; 
and went on in another vein : “ But say, captain, don’t 


THE DESERTION 


141 


you get it into your head that I’m low-spirited any, 
because I ain’t — not by a long way.” 

“ I don’t know about you,” said Wade shortly. “ But 
I’d like to see what’s raising your spirits in the situa- 
tion. These men have gone off with your map to find 
your treasure.” 

“ We’ve got to stop that, captain,” said this pro- 
nounced optimist, earnestly admonishing him. “ Cap- 
tain, we’ve just got to head ’em off right away.” 

Wade looked at him steadily, as if he would retort on 
him sharply, and then I believe something in the case 
appealed to his own reckless nature. At all events, he 
grinned, and at last burst out into a laugh. 

“ Damn it all — we will, Halliday,” he observed. 
‘‘ I’m hanged if we won’t. Let’s have a look at that 
map again.” 

And there in the cabin with the shattered door our 
conference gathered about the chart,' which had been 
the cause of our extraordinary expedition, and which 
now seemed to have caused the wreck of that expe- 
dition. 

“ Aim,” said Wade, laconic now, “ is to get at this 
spot. Devil’s Pulpit, marked with a cross, before the 
mutineers. It’s dark ; the coast is unknown ; the mark- 
ings on the map are few, and may be guesswork. 
They’re the work of an unskilled hand. The job’s 
risky. But you’ve your choice, Mr. Halliday.” 

* A facsimile of this map as copied by Halliday is given as a 
frontispiece, with certain omissions and additions I have considered 
necessary. The original map was never regained. 


142 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


‘‘ There’s no choice, sir,” said the American with 
shining eyes. “ We’re after them.” 

“Good!” said Wade. “Then we’ve no time to 
waste. Have a boat lowered, Mr. Davenant.” 

When Wade acted, he acted promptly, and within 
twenty minutes the boat was provisioned, and we were 
taking our places. The hands watched us with some 
curiosity, but said nothing. There were ten of them, 
including my friend Carter, and we had in addition 
Collins for our party. When we reckoned up our numbers 
we stood thus — the mutineers comprised Byrne, Clif- 
ford, Crashaw, and fifteen men ; on our side were Halli^ 
day, Wade, Marley, Davenant, Digby, McLeod, myself, 
Collins, and ten others. That made us exactly even in 
strength, but they had the advantage of the start, and 
doubtless they were well equipped. It was impossible 
to leave the Duncannon deserted, and so we picked our 
crew. Wade decided that six of the men should remain 
aboard, under the charge of Digby, who had with him 
a quartermaster, one Edwards, with a black moustache 
and imperial. The rest of us were to rush the position 

“What’s that you’ve got?” demanded Davenant as 
I packed a case away in the rear of the boat. 

“ Firearms,” I answered. 

“ What, you don’t suppose there’ll be any of that 
sort of thing? ” he said in surprise. 

“ One never knows,” I answered. “ Better be safe 
than sorry.” 

“ Well, it looks like putting a premium on man- 
slaughter,” he protested. 


THE DESERTION 


143 


I said nothing, for my ears heard a sound through 
the noises and voices, and I turned my head and peered 
through the darkness ; but under the loom of the hull it 
was impenetrable. Yet there seemed to be lurking a 
shadow in the stern. 

Give way,” said Wade; and we shot out. But I 
still stared, for the sound I had heard behind me was 
the rustle of skirts. The shadow still lurked in the 
stem. 


CHAPTER X 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 

The boat settled into silence soon, save for the regular 
dip of the oars, and Wade’s voice at intervals raised in 
instructions. The shadows worked about that deeper 
shadow which I suspected; but I said nothing, for it 
would have been useless now. If the girl had been so 
mad as to come ashore it was her own fault. And yet 
I could not be hard on her, ignorant of the issues as she 
was, and so full of life and spirit. She had stowed 
herself away like a mischievous boy, and now lay quiet 
as a mouse. 

The wind was cool and brisk, and sang in the ears, 
as the sailors sent the boat merrily along into the teeth 
of it. I felt chill, and even as I felt so I put out my 
arm backward, with a protective design which was 
almost instinctive, to see if she were cold. My hand 
touched a body warm with the racing blood, and then 
fingers stole into mine and pressed them; I think she 
meant to plead with me for herself, to implore my 
assistance, to deprecate my anger. It was the act of a 
child who has been a little frightened by her own bold- 
ness. Yet I will confess that I thrilled unexpectedly to 
the pressure of those delicate fingers. I thrilled, and I 
let my hand rest there. She may have taken this as a 
sign that she was forgiven, and that I would stand by 
144 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


145 


her. At any rate, her hand remained in mine, passive 
now, as if she were content. 

The stars emerged again from the wrack shortly 
afterwards, and I could see her where she lay, crouched 
against the boat, and enveloped in a dark cloak which 
she had obtained. In the distance now the heights of 
the island could be seen. Wade stood up, peering 
ahead for the foreshore, and made a signal presently. 
The boat turned her nose and marched on a new tack, 
and for some little time the heights did not emerge 
more distinctly. Consequently it was clear that we 
must be keeping a parallel course, or in other words, 
must be skirting the shore. A bluff of land rose dimly 
out of the darkness, and slowly dropped into it again ; 
and Wade now issued another order. With the helm 
up, the boat began to move slowly inwards ; ten minutes 
afterwards she grounded peacefully on a pebble beach. 

We were, so far as we could make out, in a small cove, 
with bluff cliffs to either side. Indeed, subsequently 
we discovered that the little bay was almost land-locked, 
and formed a comfortable, and secure, if diminutive, 
harbour. With the aid of a lantern Wade and Marley 
examined the chart at once, and came to the conclusion 
that we had landed on the east side of the island in one 
of the tiny inlets indicated by the broken coast-line. 
It was not, of course, possible for us to determine at 
which point the first boat had made the shore, but we 
could only hope that it was farther from our common 
objective than we were. As for that, it was plainly 
marked on Halliday’s map, a rude cross in red ink 


146 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


under the words “ Devil’s Pulpit,” from which a stream 
appeared to arise, as will be seen on reference to the 
reproduction of the chart. Marley reckoned that it 
should lie due west of us, and accordingly we prepared 
to direct our course that way. 

But when we came to unload the boat the inevitable 
discovery was made. 

“ The lady’s there, sir,” gasped one of the seamen. 

“What’s that.?” said Wade sharply, and went for- 
ward. He had two moods, and I thought I knew which 
possessed him then. I took his arm as he passed. 

“ I think the poor girl’s sick of being cooped up, 
Mark,” I said. 

“ Lady’s man, eh.? ” he said shortly. “ You’ve mis- 
taken your occupation — should have been a curate, 
Ned.” 

“ It’s no affair of mine,” I said sharply. “ Do what 
you will. But we’ve no time to send her back.” 

He boarded the boat again, and I heard him call out, 
“Now, this is very foolish. Miss Sylvester”; but I 
guessed from his tone that he had changed his mind. 
It was a reckless expedition, and one madman (or mad- 
woman) the more did not matter. 

It had been arranged that we were to beach and con- 
ceal the boat, which we did under overhanging bushes, 
make a cache of some of the provisions, and march with 
the balance. We required speed, as Wade impressed 
on us, and at that he turned to the girl. 

“ I’m afraid you won’t like it,” he said tenderly. 

“ I can walk as well as anyone,” she declared, having 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


147 


now fully recovered her assurance. And oh, it will 
be romantic ! ” 

I wondered if it would be more than romantic; but 
Wade laughed, and gave the order to start; and so we 
set out, a little band with high hopes and some mis- 
givings, on our venture. We were eleven in all, includ- 
ing Miss Sylvester, and the mutineers were eighteen. 
But we were relying upon craft rather than strength 
or numbers. It was reckoned to be five miles to the 
place where the treasure was hidden, and if we were for- 
tunate we should reach it in two hours ; if we had no 
luck — well, it might be dawn, if we ever reached it. 
Great things were thus depending on this hazard, as 
some of us felt while we climbed up from the cove. 

For the sea came in softly here upon a beach of white 
and broken shells, through which a small stream 
gurgled down a little coomb. Up this we proceeded, 
and when it ceased at its source, a bubbling spring in 
the face of a hillside, we began to creep up that hill, 
which was sparsely clothed with bushes and trees. 
There was, of course, no pathway, and we were obliged 
to make our own direction, which was easy enough at 
first. But on reaching the upper slopes of the hill we 
were confronted by a heavy wood, luxuriant and embar- 
rassing with undergrowth. Through this we needs 
must cut and hack and break our way very painfully. 
I was in the van with a huge axe which we had brought 
for some such emergency, and the sailor. Carter, fol- 
lowed close on my heels, clearing up the road I hewed. 
Wade came next, and after him Miss Sylvester and 


148 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


McLeod, who had managed to keep close to her. 
Necessarily our progress was very slow, and we rested 
at intervals. Sometimes one of the sailors or Wade 
himself relieved me, and on one of these occasions I had 
Miss Sylvester for company. She was excited, and full 
of questions, which she discharged alternately at 
McLeod and myself. Once we came to a pause in a 
little clearing in a descent which appeared to lead down- 
ward to the sea, while Wade inspected the map and the 
compass. 

“ This is a ticklish place,” said he ; “ we’re on a ridge, 
and have got to keep it. If we go down anywhere we’ll 
find ourselves in one of the coves as like as not.” 

Davenant took the chart and the compass and exam- 
ined them eagerly. It was then that McLeod pushed 
by me rather brusquely. He had practically spoken 
to no one save myself since his disgrace, and since Wade 
had returned him the blow they had ignored each other. 

‘‘ See here. Captain Wade,” he said with some 
vehemence. “ I’m not going to let this go on. You 
owe me an apology.” 

Wade regarded him coldly. “ Why? ” he asked. 

‘‘ You called me a thief,” McLeod burst forth. 

“ That you are here is, I think, good evidence that 
we don’t think you that,” said Wade easily. ‘‘ You 
were ironed for something else. I thought we’d settled 
all that.” 

McLeod looked round, and he wore now a sheepish 
look. 

“ I’m bound to say I did take that key,” he said. 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 149 

“ Clifford put me up to it. But it was lying on the 
table. I just borrowed it.” 

“ I see,” I cried. “ That was astute of the real thief. 
It averted suspicion, and threw it on you. The bureau 
was broken into, the documents stolen, and the key 
thrown on the table to tempt you. That was cute.” 

‘‘ A smart trick,” said Davenant. 

“ There’s a long score to settle with Messrs. Byrne 
and Clifford,” said Wade. “ Let’s get along. Dr. 
McLeod, I think we’ll cry quits all round, but I’m not 
going to sea with you again.” 

“ Damned if I want you to,” growled the irritable 
Scot. 

That journey was beset with difficulties on which we 
had not reckoned. Not only was the forest almost im- 
pervious, so that we were obliged to cut each step for 
ourselves, but it was broken underfoot, descended into 
gullies, and mounted heights. The scrub of the under- 
growth was sharp, and tore our clothes and lacerated 
our flesh. Moreover, on our other troubles was super- 
imposed the darkness. The stars were invisible in the 
tangle of the wood, which was impenetrable to the eye. 
Night enveloped us, black, occult night, through which 
we stumbled on our way to an unknown goal at the 
guidance of a piece of paper for which there was no 
warranty. It was sheer madness; but we were com- 
mitted to the enterprise, and I think that we all by this 
time had been inflamed to the fever-heat of war. That 
night must have tried Miss Sylvester sorely, but she 
showed desperate pluck, and never murmured or com- 


150 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


plained. One or other of us was continually offering 
her assistance, which she accepted very charmingly and 
simply, as a child is helped over a stile or across a 
brook. She breathed deeply in the night, and I heard 
her respirations when we halted once for further 
consultation. 

“ Shall we be there soon.'^ ” she asked me. 

“ I hope so,” I returned. 

“And where is there ” she pursued, with a little 
laugh. 

“No one knows,” I said. “ But it is quite certain 
that wherever it is, Miss Sylvester should not in wisdom 
be there.” 

“ Don’t be angry,” she coaxed. “ I simply could not 
have borne to stay aboard.” 

“ There is your uncle,” I said. 

“ Uncle — uncle’s — don’t know. He’s been very odd 
lately. He’s been so restless. Do you know — I sup- 
pose I oughtn’t to say it — ^but we’ve never got on very 
well together. I’ve never understood him. I know he’s 
very clever, a great financier, and all that. But — ^you 
see I was very fond of my aunt, who married him. And 
uncle has all my money invested, and — oh, I shall be so 
glad to get to New York again, and see all the old 
places. Do you think I’ll find it changed much.f* ” she 
asked wistfully, but rattled on when I had answered in 
a vivacious mood. Though she was dog-tired, her 
spirit was buoyant. “ Oh, it’s just lovely to think I’m 
in a real adventure like this, with mutineers and all. 
I’ve often read of it, but I never thought I should live 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


151 


it like this. I should love to live romance. I’ve never 
had any — only luxuries, Mr. Herapath. I don’t want 
luxuries ; I want — romance.” 

To my mind she was likely to get as much adventure 
here as was good for her, but I could not answer for 
the romance. I pitied her simplicity, in the quaint 
phraseology of the old hymn. It was touching. But 
presently the saddle on which we were moving began to 
narrow, so that we were forced uncomfortably to keep 
our position on a sharpening ridge ; and next the forest 
fell abruptly away on the south, and disclosed a sheer 
height of precipice in front of us. It was impossible 
to maintain our course as we had been doing, and there 
remained the alternatives of descent southward into 
the wooded lower ground, or of a passage along the 
precipice. In view of the fact that darkness would 
make the latter course dangerous, we decided to go 
down, the more readily that we had no certainty of 
reaching our destination by one way sooner than the 
other. 

The descent was less arduous than our previous 
course, for the trees grew less intimately together. 
The plexus was not nearly so intricate ; and as the way 
was downward we pushed on with better heart. Never- 
theless, we were fairly exhausted when we had got once 
more to the level ground and found the afforestation 
still sparse. Here a halt was called to rest, for what 
with the picks we were carrying and the struggle 
through the jungle all had come to the end of their 
resources. Wade was now expressing annoyance that 


152 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


we had been obliged to come down so far. ‘‘ It would 
have been better for us to have landed south, and made 
up by this creek they mark,” he said. 

“ Beggars can’t be choosers,” I said philosophically. 
“ It is all in the night’s work.” 

I threw off my pack, and lay with my face to the 
blind heaven, in which the stars were faint. The breeze 
was off the land, and rustled the leaves around us on its 
way to the sea, which beat at no great distance on the 
beaches. Then, moved by a sudden impulse, I arose, 
and began to walk away. I passed a dim figure, and 
heard my name. 

“ Mr. Herapath ! ” 

Poor child, she was lying prone, with her face like- 
wise to the stars ; but she stirred a little as she called, 
and I could see her pull the skirts about her ankles. 

“ Where are you going.? ” she asked. 

“ I’m like that evil spirit that went to and fro,” I 
told her, in the hopes of brightening her. “ I am 
restless, if aweary, and adventures are to the adven- 
turous. Suppose I should hit upon a short cut for 
us all.? ” 

She got to her feet at once. ‘‘ Do let me come,” she 
urged. I’m not really tired. I should love to. Oh, 
what do you think we’ll find .? ” 

“ I think you are a dear silly,” I said, treating her 
as a child. ‘‘ But if you’ve really strength in your 
legs, come along. I’m only going to see if the stream 
which is marked on the map is over here. We can’t be 
far off.” 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


153 


She walked by my side alertly, as if to bear out her 
words, and together we proceeded two hundred paces 
westward. The trees being few and far between this 
was no long business. But we failed to come upon the 
stream ; and so I northered a little, making a nor’-nor’- 
west course. After three hundred yards more the wood 
thickened, and I would have turned back at that 
moment if my ears had not been arrested by a sound. 
It was a voice, distant, but unmistakably a voice. I 
put my hand quickly upon my companion’s to keep her 
silent, and listened. Now I got the direction, and still 
enjoining silence on her I turned, and we made softly 
through the wood. Five minutes afterwards we all 
but walked into the stream. 

It was some twenty feet across, as I guessed, and ran 
swiftly in its short course betwixt the hills of that 
island and the sea. The voice I had heard undoubtedly 
had drifted to us from the other side, and I was deter- 
mined to cross and investigate. 

“ Do you mind being left.^ ” I asked in a low voice. 
“ I must find out what they’re doing. You will be safe 
here.” 

She hesitated, and then, ‘‘No; don’t bother about 
me,” she whispered back. 

I pressed her hand in thanks, and plunged into the 
water. It came well up to my thighs, it was amazingly 
rapid, and it almost took me off my feet. However, I 
blundered through the boulders on the bed to the other 
side, and entered that farther fastness of wood. Imme- 
diately afterwards I saw a light, and I lay low. 


154 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Someone came up through the trees swinging a lan- 
tern, and then a voice called from the distance in unmis- 
takable tones : 

“ Great Caesar’s ghost, draw it mild, Crashaw ! We 
ain’t a blooming motor car.” 

Here was news. At Clifford’s words the man with 
the lantern paused, swung round on his heel, and seemed 
about to say something. Instead, however, he started 
to pick his way again through the wood. It was 
Crashaw. He was coming in a direct line for me, where 
I skulked behind a bush, his lantern a gleaming jewel in 
the night, a Cyclopean eye that blinked and menaced. 
I could hear voices back in the distance. It was a case 
of follow-my-leader ; and evidently the mutineers had 
had, like ourselves, a hard fight upward. 

The idea reached me almost as the man did. I 
stepped out, struck him heavily on the temple, and he 
fell in a clumsy heap, the lantern clashing to the 
ground. This I picked up at once, and hastily relit, 
for it was as a will-o’-the-wisp I wanted it, and there 
was no time to lose if I was to carry out the deception 
successfully. And next, there was Crashaw’s body. I 
had hit hard, and he was not likely to regain his senses 
for some time ; and when he did he would find some diffi- 
culty in making out the situation. At all events, I 
had to risk it now. I took hold of him! as I did so 
I heard a whispering voice, tremulous with fear and 
emotion : 

“ Is — is he dead.J^ ” 

It was Miss Sylvester, who had followed me. There 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 15^^ 

was no time to remonstrate with her. I had business of^ 
more importance on hand. 

‘‘ No,” I said abruptly, and I carried the inert body 
among the bushes in which I had hidden. 

Crash aw! ” yelled out Clifford, and he was now at 
close quarters. “ Where in Halifax are you? ” 

For answer I waved the lantern above my head. 

“ Oh, how could you do it ? ” asked Miss Sylvester 
tragically. 

“ Child, you mustn’t meddle in this,” I said hastily^ 
“ He’s only stunned. I told you you were not fit for 
this. It’s man’s work. Please go back before they 
come, and tell the others to make haste up the stream.” 

‘‘ No,” she said. “ I’m not afraid. If he’s not dead 
— you mustn’t be left alone.” 

I could have laughed in other circumstances at the 
thought that her company could be of assistance to 
me. But as it was, I was touched. 

“ Come then,” I said. “ Walk ahead of me, and keep’> 
within earshot. This is madness, but we’re all mad.”^ 

She obeyed me without a word, and I directed her in 
a low voice. We swung round in a curve away from 
the stream. From behind the following voices reached 
us at intervals. 

For half-an-hour I kept this course until we were on 
much lower ground, and, as I guessed, somewhere to the 
western side of the island, but still among woods. My 
companion for all her weariness walked with unflagging 
spirit, and though she sometimes cast a glance back at 
me she had never once questioned my directions or com- 


156 


THE DEVIL'S PULPIT 


mented on them. We were in the position of leaders of 
a file which straggled away a hundred yards or more, ^ 
and by this time it was apparent that some of them had • 
grown impatient. 

“ Is this your three miles, blimee.? ” demanded 
Clifford wrathfully out of the darkness. “ Whoa 
there, Crashaw! Give pause! Help! I ain’t a 
blooming mowing machine, and I can’t get through this 
undergrowth.” 

I paid no heed to this; but presently another voice 
hailed me. 

“ We’ll be having a rest now, Crashaw. Wait a 
bit.” It was Byrne; but I dared not wait. I swung 
the light about, as if to indicate I had heard, and then 
I put it out. Now I could see the girl’s figure more 
plainly in front of me, and I called to her in a whisper. 

She came back. 

“ We’ve done all we can now. We’d better turn in 
our tracks,” I said. “ I’m afraid you’re tired.” 

“Yes,” she assented; “but I’m glad. How far 
away are we.^ ” 

I told her, adding that we might be obliged to cover 
a greater distance owing to my rough reckoning and 
the darkness. We stepped noiselessly away, and made 
a detour upward to avoid the resting mutineers. Hav- 
ing skirted them safely we started eastward at a steady 
pace. My second wind had come to me, and I drew 
breath freely and without discomfort as I strode, but 
I feared for the girl. The way had been rough, and 
she was very silent. Twice she stumbled at my side. 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


157 


and a third time was falling, with her foot in a hole, 
when I caught her. She had lost control of her steps. 
I put an arm about her. 

“ Brave girl ! ” I said. “ Your soul goes marching 
on.” 

“ I’m glad you think that,” she said with a flash of 
spirit. “ It does — it does.” She paused. ‘‘ But oh, 
I’m so tired,” she bleated pathetically. 

I did not say “ I told you so ” ; but I acted. I 
pressed the arm closer about her, and she leaned against 
me like a weary child. With a swing I had her on my 
back, at which she gave a little astonished cry, and was 
then silent. She rested there, supported by my hip, 
without a struggle, no doubt enjoying the relief of her 
muscles. She did not weigh heavily, and in any case I 
felt I could have supported a heavier burden just then, 
and have carried it farther. Once she murmured in 
my ear: 

“ How strong you are ! ” And another time in a tired 
voice: “ How kind you are ! ” 

My march continued steadily over the broken ground 
and through the lessening forest. With any luck, I 
reflected, our party would have reached the Devil’s 
Pulpit — ^whatever that might be — half-an-hour ago. 
In the dimness of the obscure night we came out of a 
thicket upon the little river, which bubbled merrily on 
its way to the sea, and Miss Sylvester wriggled on my 
shoulder. I interpreted her sign, and set her down. 

‘‘ Thank you, ever so much,” she said, smiling at me. 
“ I feel myself now.” 


158 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


‘‘ Let me take you across first,” I said. 

“ How do you suppose I crossed before ” she asked. 

“ Oh, you — ^you walked through, didn’t you? ” 

She laughed. “ Yes,” she said demurely. “ But, 
Mr. Herapath, you must remember my limited ward- 
robe. I can’t aflPord to take risks. So I crossed in the 
proper way ; and I’m going to do so again.” 

She had sat down, and begun to take off her boots, 
and I sat down also and waited. 

“I could carry you,” I reminded her. 

Oh, but it will be just delicious in the water — so 
refreshing,” she declared. 

I had my doubts of the torrent. It had been fairly 
shallow where I crossed, but it had broken against me 
with considerable force. But I had come to recognise 
her wilfulness. She put her boots and stockings about 
her neck, and pinned up her skirts. 

“ I’m going to enjoy this,” she said as she waded in, 
and squealed “ Oh ! ” as the cold water struck home. 
“ Delicious ! ” she exclaimed. 

I went in after her. It was only some twenty feet to 
the farther side, but there were rough boulders in the 
bed. She walked in a careful gingerly fashion, a pretty 
shadowy figure in the twilight. Then she trod on a 
stone, and lurched forward, and of a sudden the roar- 
ing stream was waist-high, and she fell with a startled 
cry. The torrent had dashed her a dozen feet away ere 
I could seize her, and then I held her up dripping. 
“Oh!” she gasped. “What a fool I am! You’ll be 
sick of such a fool.” 


NIGHT ON THE ISLAND 


159 


We got out, and I squeezed the water from her skirt, 
while she laughed on lugubriously. 

“ My whole wardrobe,” she said pathetically. 

“ Now, I’m afraid you must walk,” I said, “ or you’ll 
catch cold.” 

“ My teeth are beginning to chatter,” she confessed, 
and mournfully put on her soaking boots. I don’t 
think she remembered at that moment that I carried 
her stockings. She was a pitiful little figure; but she 
strode manfully in my wake as we passed upward. Ten 
minutes later I was brought up by what seemed to be a 
dense growth of scrub. I followed along it towards the 
stream, but it descended to the verge, and I was not in 
the mind to plunge through the chill water again. So 
I moved in the other direction ; but the scrub continued, 
offering an impenetrable and continuous front. 

“Are we nearly there?” Miss Sylvester’s voice as- 
sailed me. Then there was another voice. 

“ Who goes there? Halt, or I fire.” 

I recognised it ; it was Marley’s. I called back : “ It’s 
Herapath.” 

A face emerged over the thicket of scrub, but was not 
recognisable in the light. 

“ You, old man? ” said Marley. “ What the blessed 
potato have you been up to? ” 

“ I’ll tell you presently,” said I. “ What’s this ? ” 

“ This is our blooming zariba,” he said triumphantly. 
“ Come along in.” 

“ What is it? ” demanded Miss Sylvester, forgetting 
her misfortune in her interest. 


160 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ It’s a fortification. They’ve made a wall of scrub 
and brushwood,” I said, taking it all in suddenly. 

“ A fortification ! ” she cried. “ But why ” 

“ Because, my dear child,” I said, “ this is war, and 
the campaign is opening.” 


mark’s way 


Marley held a lantern, which he swung in Miss Syl- 
vester’s face as I assisted her over the barrier. 

“ Well, I’m staggered ! ” he remarked. “ Anything 
happened to you ? Get lost ? ” 

I told him succinctly the story of our wanderings, 
and he whistled. “ By Jove, old man, we owe you one. 
That’s why we come to be here then.” 

“ I’d hke to know exactly where here is,” I 
said. 

“ Blamed if we know ourselves,” he replied. “ All we 
do know is that we followed the river up till we were 
stopped by a precipice, and we guess that that’s the 
Devil’s Pulpit.” 

“ You’ve got some food.? ” I asked. “ Miss Sylves- 
ter is worn out and exhausted.” 

“ She’s a brick,” he said admiringly. “ Oh, there’s 
lots of grub. Wade’s getting a sleep. We ran this 
zariba up pretty smart, eh.? ” 

I complimented him, and he led the way to a shelter 
which had been erected in the umbrage of a great tree, 
as I could make out. 

“ They’re not bad quarters,” he observed. “ Plenty 
of room anyway, and lots of water down there. De- 
pends on what turns up. This is meant for Miss 
161 


162 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Sylvester. 'Wade had it fixed himself. I say, old man, 
.he’s in a mighty wax with you.” 

“ Never mind,” said 1. “ It was worth it.” 

The reply perhaps was ambiguous. Marley stood 
regarding the girl abstractedly, and without self-con- 
sciousness, as was his wont, and if she had not been 
dog-tired she might have felt embarrassed. In the 
light of his own lantern he looked yellow and lank of 
face. His eyes were preternaturally wide. 

“ Well, I must be getting some food for you,” he said, 
and walked away. “ It’s my watch,” he called back. 
He was disjointed in his remarks, and somewhat 
strange. I introduced Miss Sylvester into her impro- 
vised hut, and she sank on the couch of fern which the 
thoughtfulness of someone had raised for her. 

“ Oh, this is heavenly,” she sighed. “ It’s better 
than any ballrooms or theatres or anything of that sort. 
It’s divine just to feel tired, Mr. Herapath, and have all 
this fine air, and the stars and the growing light.” 

“ My dear lady,” said I, “ what about your wet 
clothes ? ” 

“ Oh, you have no romance,” she said, with a laugh, 
and sat up. “ It certainly is serious. I’ve no change. 
Oh, but here’s my cloak, which someone has kindly 
brought along. Mr. Herapath,” she added with play- 
ful demureness, “ do you think that if we stay here 
like Robinson Crusoe we shall be able to make our own 
<;lothes out of skins and bark and things ? ” 

“ We’ll do our best,” I said lightly, as Marley re- 
turned, bringing biscuit^ and tins. 


MARK’S WAY 163 

“ Now set to,” he said. “ You ought to be 
peckish.” 

We ate while we talked, and Miss Sylvester, who had 
recovered her gaiety, laughed at intervals. “ It is so 
exciting,” she cried, but presently yawned a little be- 
hind a dainty hand. Sleep would, I knew, make swift 
decent upon that volatile spirit. Marley and I bade 
her good-night. 

The camp was wrapped in silence, but in the grey 
light the figures of Marley’s two sentries could be seen, 
one on the side of the stream, and the other facing the 
wood. 

“ We’re all right for the present then,” he remarked, 
“ and I’m infernally glad. Gad, the blighters are 
t’other side of the island. I never cottoned to that 
fellow Clifford,” he said pensively. “ Lord, I shall be 
glad when my turn comes. I could sleep — ^I think I 
could.” 

He looked drowsy, and something more. 

“ Let me take your watch,” said I. 

“ No ; thank you, old man, all the same,” he replied. 

I’ll manage all right. It’s been a bit tiring. But 
Davenant comes on presently. I’m all right.” 

He set down his lantern, and blew it out, for the light 
was steadily growing. Then he sat down by it under 
the barrier of scrub, and began to talk disconnectedly. 
Ten minutes later he was asleep, with his head against 
the zariba. I let him sleep, and remained by him in 
silence. Slowly the eastern sky brightened, and the 
dawn was about us. Mists hung about the sea, but the 


164 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


hills above us now took form and substance. I had 
for some time a sense of something menacing, or some- 
thing imminent and impending. It was a curious physi- 
cal sensation of being within the influence of some alien 
thing. And now the explanation forced itself upon me. 
Out of the night with its faded stars grew a great 
shadow; it ‘built itself obscurely above me, and then 
gradually materialised into substance. And the shafts 
of the early dawn illumined a pillar of rock that rose 
from the fringe of the camp and towered to heaven 
above us. 

I recognised it at once from the name on the chart, 
and the curious appropriateness of its style struck me ; 
for the precipice had a strange resemblance to a gigan- 
tic pulpit. The rising ground of the island here reached 
its climax in a wooded peak some thousand feet high. 
But on this southern side the face had fallen away 
suddenly, and the descent was abrupt and precipitous. 
The stream ran in a lather of foam out of a small canon 
between two naked cliffs of rock, and upon one side the 
arrete was formidable. The bare wall ascended sheer 
from the outskirts of the camp some five hundred feet. 
Then it curled over in a lip, forming a ledge which ap- 
peared from below to be of some size. Above this again 
the wall resumed until the top of the hill was gained, 
and here it once more turned and hung over the valley. 
Thus the two ledges projecting over one space gave to 
the precipice, as I have said, its odd likeness to an 
old-fashioned pulpit. 

So far then the tale was true, the mad, wild story 


MARKUS WAY 


165 


which had been pieced together from the gossip of a 
countryside, the rambling words of a dying man, and 
from an unauthenticated chart, by the enthusiasm of an 
idealist. Events had justified Halliday’s faith up to 
this point. The island was here, and here was the site 
of the treasure trove. The question to be answered 
now was, was the treasure there? As I gazed upward 
I reflected that this eyrie in which the possessors had 
chosen to conceal it was almost in itself a corroboration 
of the story. The sun emerged from the mists on the 
water, and the young rays dashed the face of the cliff 
with fire. Somehow I was strangely stirred. The 
camp was enshrouded in silence, and lay dark beneath 
that glory ; and I craned my neck and gazed. 

The sound of feet aroused me. I came back to earth, 
and saw Davenant. He was some distance away, and 
his back was towards me. He too was looking upward. 
I called to him, and he started. 

“ You gave me a shock. I thought you’d disap- 
peared,” he said; and his glance fell on Marley, still 
slumbering at my feet. 

“ I’m afraid he’s ill,” I said. 

He bent and examined him. “ Something wrong 
there,” he observed. “ I don’t like his looks. Let’s 
cart him inside.” 

We lifted the sleeping man, who grunted, but did not 
wake, and carried him to his tent. The sleep was not 
natural ; it looked, I thought, like a lesion of the brain. 
Davenant went out to take his watch, and I was just 
going to turn in when I heard a voice across the stream. 


166 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


I hurried down to the edge of the zariba, whither Dave- 
nant had already preceded me. 

“ Hear anything? ” I inquired. 

“ Yes ; it’s them right enough.” He looked puzzled. 
“ I can’t make out why they weren’t here before.” 

“ Oh, I forgot I hadn’t told you,” I said, and told 
him. 

He stared at me through his glasses. “ That’s 
smart,” he said. “ However, here they are.” 

“ But we’re in possession,” I declared. 

“ Oh yes, we’re in possession,” he shrugged his 
shoulders ; “ if you call that possession.” He pointed 
at the precipice. 

Across the water figures emerged. The sun streamed 
freshly over Clifford’s purple face, lighting it up. I 
shrank back so as not to be .seen, but Davenant 
remained. 

“ It’s only fair to give you notice,” he called in his 
neat voice, “ that we will allow no one to cross this side 
of the river.” 

Clifford and the others of his party who had arrived 
turned their eyes on him, and for a moment there was 
silence. Then Clifford spoke. 

“ Great jujubes, he’s got a bally fort, has Mister 
Wade. He’s protecting his picaninnies, is Mister 
Wade. He’s the father of his flock, is Mister Wade. 
All right, governor, don’t shoot, and we’ll come down. 
Anyone got a drink? ” he asked of his companions. “ I 
could drink a brewery. Byrne, you blighter, got a 
drink? ” 


MARK’S WAY 


167 


The bushes rustled on the other side, and the party 
disappeared. It was not a very dramatic opening ; 
indeed, it was rather mild. But I had no objection to 
offer on that score. Davenant turned to me. 

“ It’s all right. They’ve got no stomach for any- 
thing just now. They’re pretty well winded, thanks 
to you. Better turn in. You must be worn out. I’ll 
fix things up.” 

I took his advice, and was soon sound asleep, nor did 
I wake until the sun was well up, and there was the 
report of gunfire in my ears. I hurried out, and found 
the whole camp up and stirring. The sun was on the 
summits of the hiUs, and white upon the face of the 
precipice. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” I asked the first man I met. 
Carter, who was handling a revolver in a slow mechani- 
cal way. 

“ They’re firing at the cliff, sir,” he said. 

“ Who are firing.? ” I asked impatiently. 

“ The other chaps,” he said. 

I ran down to the water’s edge, and stared across. 
The land rose a little, a hundred paces from the stream, 
into a small bush-crowned knoll, and from this I saw a 
puff of smoke emerge. There was a report, and a 
splinter fell from the rock in our rear. 

“Damn bad marksmanship,” ejaculated McLeod 
near me. 

“ Say, captain, hadn’t we better take shelter? ” 
asked Halliday, who was as restless as a cat on hot 
plates. 


168 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Wade, whom my eyes picked out now, did not move 
or answer. He was watching the mound across the 
stream. 

“Now what the deuce does this mean.?^” he said 
presently in a puzzled voice. 

“Can’t you see?” said 1. “There’s a man with 
brains there, and I don’t know who it is. They’re not 
going to attack us. Oh dear, no! They’ve started a 
shooting range; that’s all. No one can complain of 
that. In fact; it’s a sort of patriotic training. Only 
their range happens to be athwart our objective, which 
is a nuisance for us.” 

“ You mean ” he said, whipping round to look at 

the cliff. He was in full view of the mutineers, drawn 
to his full stature, an easy mark. Crack! A rifle 
rang out at that moment, and a sprinkle of dust rose 
under the Devil’s Pulpit. “ I believe you’re right, 
Ned,” he said excitedly. “ Anyway, we’ll test it.” 

He marched to the edge of the zariba, and climbed 
over. I called to him to come back; but he paid no 
heed, and stalked across the open space between us and 
the base of the precipice. He had gone no farther than 
a dozen yards when there broke out from the knoll a 
splutter of rifle fire, and patches of dust leapt from 
the wall. Wade turned, halted, and looked back. 
Then he rejoined us. 

“ Correct ! ” he said laconically, dusting his hands. 
“ That’s one to you, Ned; and that reminds me, by the 
Lord, Mr. Herapath, what in blazes did you mean by 
decamping last night? It’s as near a thing to mutiny 


MARK’S WAY 169 

as I know next to that.” He indicated the mound with 
his hand. 

“ I cry you mercy,” I said. “ It was an accident, 
and I couldn’t resist the temptation.” And I told him 
what had happened. 

“ That’s all very well,” he said, not so much mollified 
as I had anticipated. “ But you must get this into 
your noddle — that orders must be obeyed. We can’t 
afford to break up our bundle of faggots, so as to be 
destroyed in detail. And then Miss Sylvester — damn 
it, man, you ought to have had more sense.” 

“ All right,” said I in good humour. ‘‘ I’ll take it to 
heart. But I wish you’d see Marley. I think he’s in 
for something.” 

« We’re all in for something,” he muttered as he 
turned off. 

Marley was dozing when we entered, and he looked up 
at us in a dazed way. 

“ By God, old chap, this is a bit thick,” he murmured 
vacuously. 

I went in search of McLeod, who reported badly. 
There was lesion of some sort from the blow he had 
received, and it was necessary to treat the first officer 
as an invalid. 

By eight o’clock our camp had the air of a picnic. 
From our store of provisions we had taken what was 
necessary, and a fire was blazing in the middle of the 
fort, at which we boiled water to make tea and coffee. 
We squatted to an admirable breakfast, at which, how- 
ever, Miss Sylvester did not appear. I saw Wade 


170 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


coming from her tent a little earlier, and he sat down 
to his meal in an excellently cheerful mood. He was 
bright with sallies, being in possession now of his incur- 
able spirit of adventure. 

“ We’ve not got a bad start,” he said, “ and we’ve 
always the ship to rely upon as a base. Digby can 
hold it against this herd out here. It’s a fair picnic, 
Ned; quite like the woods behind your father’s rectory, 
eh, when you ogled the pretty girls on Sunday school 
beanoes.” 

The mound was silent, and we had heard no shooting 
for some time. It was the calm before the storm. Hal- 
liday, rapt in a sort of vision, was staring up at the 
cliff. 

“ Why, captain, this is bully for me,” he said in the 
tone of one who is indulging in a pleasant reverie. “ We 
got here all the same. I had a kind of premonition 
we’d come out on top. There’s the Devil’s Pulpit 
right enough. I don’t want to talk tall any, but 
what’s happened to those that said the chart was 
faked? ” 

“ They’ve climbed down out o’ sight,” said Wade 
good-humouredly. 

“ I reckon I ought to have changed the name of that 
steamer, as I thought of doing,” went on Halhday. 
“ Bonne Aventure! How would that strike you? ” he 
asked anxiously. 

“ It has a pleasing sound,” said Wade. 

“ When you size it all up, captain,” said Halliday, 
“ the loss of that map and the documents ain’t like being 


MARK’S WAY 


171 


at all bad for me. I guess I get off those contracts 
now. I guess Byrne and Clifford don’t count anyway.” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t be certain they do,” remarked 
Wade indifferently. “ But the point is, what are we 
going to do.^ I’m at your service, Mr. Halliday. I’ll 
steam for Bristol to-morrow if you like, or I’ll stay here. 
There are worse places for a picnic.” 

“ I guess we’re going to stay here,” said the Ameri- 
can, with a smile. “ And I guess we’re going to get 
those dollars.” 

‘‘ How ? ” I asked bluntly. 

He regarded me dreamily. “ If I can’t puzzle out a 
way within four and twenty hours, they have my full 
permission to walk off with the swag,” he said confi- 
dently. “ What I say goes. I didn’t reckon on you 
and Captain Wade to help me out with it, only to dump 
me here. But as you’ve come along to give a helping 
hand. I’ll shake, and be grateful. But the reckoning’s 
up to me, and it’s me that’s got to do the thinking. I 
rather think I’ll start right away.” 

He rose as he spoke, and went towards his shelter 
of branches. 

“ That’s all very well, Ned,” said Wade. But 
where do we come in? And what are we going to do? 
I don’t feel disposed to go to sleep, do you? While 
our friend is plotting, what’s to become of us? ” 

He was going towards the zariba wall with a purpose- 
ful expression when Miss Sylvester came through the 
trees, and he swerved aside to her, his face wreathed 
with a smile. This was the old Wade, the character- 


172 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


istic Wade, the Wade I tolerated but did not respect. 
I turned my back on them and went down to the stream. 

The water was bubbling deeply, and heavy boulders 
were visible at the bottom. I looked up towards the 
gorge, which, as I have said, was a canon in miniature. 
The stream issued from this not more than fifty yards 
higher in a rush of black water. The bank below the 
gorge on the mutineers’ side was fringed with low-grow- 
ing bushes. It seemed to me that anyone in the water, 
and bending low, might not be visible from the mound 
which they had made their headquarters, and from 
which they conducted their rifle practice. Yet if one 
were to follow the stream up into the dark and narrow 
canon, would anything be practicable It looked 
doubtful. The cliff could be scaled, no doubt, and the 
Pulpit reached from our side, because, according to the 
evidence, it had already been done. But we were barred 
from the venture by the rifle fire, which I had come to 
the conclusion would be no respecter of persons. They 
meant business, these mutineers. Who was it that had 
inspired them and kept them so well in hand.^ I could 
not believe it was Clifford. It might be Byrne, of whom 
I knew little ; but I doubted it. On the whole, I inclined 
more to suspect Crashaw as being the brains of the 
rising. 

Halliday, then, was to think out a plan for the dis- 
comfiture of the rebels, while we were to await his. 
inspiration. This did not suit Wade’s restless nature; 
he was for action at once, and he cast about in his 
mind for something to do. He was content enough in 


MARK’S WAY 


173 


his flirtation, but that, after all, could not occupy the 
day very well; so I was not surprised when he made a 
proposal at our midday meal. Miss Sylvester attended 
this, which went agreeably enough. Poor Marley was 
ill, but the rest of us were present, and in good spirits. 
Wade took command in his authoritative way, and with 
unusual good humour. He chaffed McLeod and my- 
self; and carried on a series of rallies with Miss Syl- 
vester which might have been appropriate at a picnic, 
but seemed out of tune with this grave business to 
which we were committed, and which* he took so 
lightly. 

“ I’ll tell you what it is, Halliday,” said he ; “ when 
we get those doubloons of yours I’ll buy one to hang 
round Miss Sylvester’s neck as a souvenir. She’s our 
mascot. You’ve observed that all along, haven’t 
you? ” 

Halliday’s eyes glowed on her, as if he pondered this 
deeply, and he replied: 

“ An American woman’s always a mascot, I guess, 
captain, and I’ve known that long before you tumbled 
to it with your dull British wits.” 

Miss Sylvester laughed. “ Oh, if I only could bring 
you luck with the treasure ! ” she cried fervently. 

“ You’ll always bring luck,” said Wade, with a par- 
ticular bow; and to Halliday: “Well, we’re burning 
with impatience to know what real American wits are 
going to devise. How are we going to lay hands on 
these same doubloons ? ” 

“ You leave it to me, captain,” said the young man 


174 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


solemnly. “ I’ve just hitched up my team, and got in 
going order.” 

“ All serene,” said Wade. “ And I’m going to amuse 
myself meanwhile.” To me later he added: “ Ned, I’m 
going across to inspect this camp.” 

‘‘ The mutineers.? ” I asked. 

He nodded. “ Damn it, man, do you think I’m 
going to sit down tamely under this .? ” he asked vehe- 
mently. “ They’re going to get their marching 
orders.” 

“ They won’t heed. We’ve got far beyond that,” I 
said. 

“ I’m captain,” he said with his old swagger, “ and 
I’ll ear-mark the beasts somehow.” 

“ If you provoke a row ” I said, and shrugged 

my shoulders. 

He turned on me angrily. “ Provoke a row ! ” he 
said. “ I’d like to know on what pretext you can apply 
the phrase to me. I’ll give my orders, and, by the 
Lord, I’d shoot for two pins. It’s rank black mutiny, 
and I’m entitled to.” 

“ All right,” said I cheerfully. “ I suppose I’ve got 
to make the other corpse.” 

He grinned as the petulance left liim. “ Anyway, we 
may learn something,” he said. “ Yes, I’ll take you.” 

It was in the middle of the afternoon when we started, 
slipping across the rushing stream under the cover of 
the protecting bushes. The mutineers had been silent 
since the morning, and we saw no signs of them, except 
the movement of a distant figure from time to time on 


MARK’S WAY 


175 


the mound, from which a thin smoke ascended, witness- 
ing to the camp. Wade and I proceeded warily 
through the undergrowth, and pushed our way through 
the trees in the direction of the mound. We were armed 
with revolvers, but we did not make a show of them; 
they were in reserve for any emergency. 

We had covered half the distance when a tall, gaunt 
figure emerged into the open, rifle in hand, and stood 
staring at us. It was Crashaw, with his bold, pro- 
truding eyes and savage air of demand; but he said 
nothing. His attitude was in itself a query. It de- 
manded an answer of us. 

“ While you are holiday-making, who’s your boss ? ” 
said Wade shortly. 

Crashaw made a signal, and out of the undergrowth 
stole two more armed hands. He answered nothing, 
but the three stood watching us. Wade strode for- 
ward, with his hand in the pocket that held the revol- 
ver; he walked straight towards Crashaw, who stood 
aside as he reached him. Wade passed on, and 
Crashaw followed. The other men took up a position 
one on each side of us, and together in this curious 
fashion, with this strange escort, we reached the camp. 

The too familiar voice of Clifford came to me as we 
neared it; and when we broke into view I saw he was 
playing cards with Byrne. Our appearance caused a 
diversion.. 

“ Remember that’s a jack-pot, my son,” said Clifford 
as he put down his cards. “ Cheer-oh, captain ! I 
take this kindly.” 


176 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Who is bossing this show? ” demanded Wade. 

“ Meaning this interesting exploration company? ” 
said Clifford. “ My honourable friend on the left.’’ 
His hand indicated Byrne, whose Irish grin broadened. 

“ Goin’ to take a hand, captain ? ” he asked. “ That’s 
sensible. There was a man I knew once that was in 
love with a gurl, and she gave him the chuck after a 
time, and took up with his friend. Well, ye don’t sup- 
pose he took it badly, do you, captain? Not he; he 
j ust swore, and says he : ‘ I’ll be damned if I’ll lose a 
wedding breakfast anyway,’ he says; and he offered 
himself as best man.” 

“ What are you going to buy me when you come into 
your fortune, Byrne?” demanded Clifford. 

“ Six of Scotch would suit you, Jacko,” said his 
f riend. 

“ Antimacassars and maiden aunts ! ” exclaimed 
Clifford. “ Have I not given you the eddication of a 
gen’leman? I want something lofty and high-toned — 
say a 40-h.p. Panhard, eh? ” 

“ I suppose,” said Wade, his anger showing in his 
rising colour, “ that you know what this means ? ” 

His was not the disposition or temperament to deal 
with such creatures as these. He was too impulsive, 
and they needed a coolness correspondent to their own. 

“ Blank sanguinary mutiny, don’t you know,” said 
Clifford, swigging at a bottle which lay beside him. 

“ That’s so,” said Wade, controlling himself ; “ and 
the penalty for mutiny is — death.” 

Clifford took up his cards. “ I’ll come in,” he said. 


MARK’S WAY 


177 


Wade was now on a tide of passion, and I feared for the 
situation. I plucked at his sleeve, but he threw me off 
angrily. 

“ I order all you men aboard at once,” he called in a 
loud voice. “ Return to your duties at once.” 

The thunder of his tone arrested the other mutineers 
in the camp, who gazed at us with interest and wonder. 
Chfford and Byrne went on playing, and Crashaw re- 
mained immovable, gun in hand. 

“ This is your last chance,” thundered Wade. 

“ That fly annoys me, Byrne,” murmured Clifford. 

Pop it off.” 

If you’ve not returned to duty by six o’clock this 
evening I shall know how to deal with you,” said Wade, 
delivering his last shot. 

“ I’ll trouble you for that quid,” said Clifford to 
Byrne, raking the cards towards him. “ And the 
penalty is death ! ” he shouted as he shuffled. 
“ Death ! ” He drawled it out melodramatically. 

Wade took one step towards him, and towered over 
him menacingly. A look of alarm entered Byrne’s 
sallow face; but Clifford glanced up indifferently, and 
the two men’s eyes met and held each other for some 
time, Clifford’s inscrutable, dark, and shining. Then 
he dealt. 

“Death in the jack-pot!” he murmured. Wade 
turned abruptly away, and walked swiftly down the 
rise. 

“ Target practice begins at five p.m. sharp,” shouted 
Clifford after us. 


178 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Wade spoke no word until we reached our camp; he 
was raging mad. Indeed, I think, on looking back, 
that he was fey that critical day. He went through 
the camp giving orders curtly, took no notice of Dave- 
nant and myself, and was sarcastic to Halliday. In 
his temperament was a good deal of vanity, and he had 
been humiliated by two common scoundrels. But in his 
character was good humour also, and that brought him 
round, together with an obstinate resolution which came 
uppermost with his best temper. 

“ The face of the cliff can be scaled,” he said, eyeing 
it. “ Just round the comer I think there is a funnel 
or chimney you can climb.” 

“ There must be some means of access,” I answered. 

“ I’ll see,” said he, and started. 

“ Don’t do it, Wade,” I said. “ It’s risky.” 

He paid no heed, but began to climb the barricade. 

“Wade, don’t!” I caUed. 

He turned a determined f ace on me. “ Do you take 
me for a common or garden engineer, Ned.^” he said, 
with a set smile. He leaped down the other side, and 
waved his hand. 

I will admit that I had no clear notion in my head as 
to his aim or intention. I vaguely assumed that we 
were to have a repetition of his previous experiment, 
and that he was putting them to the test. That was 
why I made no further protest, which, indeed, would 
have been useless with a man of Wade’s temperament. 
And so I waited somewhat anxiously and curiously for 
the warning rifles. But Wade had got halfway across 


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“Wade reached the cliff, turned, threw up his 
hand again in a graceful swaggering 

gesture” (p. 179 ) 


MARK’S WAY 


179 


the open space, and no report came. Was it possible, 
I asked myself, that the mutineers had been caught 
napping. Wade went briskly with that alert and 
athletic air that characterised him, and was now three 
parts of the way to the cliff. An exclamation near me 
drew my attention momentarily to Davenant, who was 
staring alternately at Wade and towards the mound 
from which we expected those shots. His face was 
drawn with anxiety. 

“ He would go. Why are they silent? ” I said. 

The eyes of the whole zariba were following our 
captain. Davenant took no notice; it seemed as if he 
had not heard. Wade reached the cliff, turned, threw 
up his hand again in a graceful swaggering gesture, 
and then pitched slowly forward against the wall. 
Simultaneously a loud crack rent the air and echoed 
from the precipice. 

“ The damned fools ! Oh, the damned fools ! ” 
exclaimed the low voice of Davenant. A woman’s cry, 
terrified and long drawn as a sob, came to us, and out 
of the tail of my eye I saw Miss Sylvester clutching at 
the brushwood with a wildly startled expression on her 
young face. 


CHAPTER XII 


\ 


OPEN WAR 

A CONFLUENCE of voices assailed my ears in the instant. 
Instinctively I jumped forward, and seized Miss Syl- 
vester by the arm. 

“ Come away 1 ” I said. 

“ Good God, they’ve shot him ! ” cried McLeod, run- 
ning up. “ They’ve shot him, man ! Let’s wipe ’em 
out ! ” He leapt on the barricade, and gesticulated 
grotesquely, waving his arms in the direction of the 
mutineers’ camp. I only caught some of his passionate 
utterances, for he was at fever-heat, and his words 
flowed from him in a froth. ‘‘ Savage dogs . . . 

swine. . . . Burn ’em in their dirty styes. ...” 

As I held the girl, and she clung to me with terror in 
her grip, Davenant emerged suddenly from his stupor, 
and took command with an authoritative self-possession 
which afterwards I could not but admire ; and the more 
so that his voice was shaky. 

“ Carter, Smith! ” he called, “ over with you for am- 
bulance work.” And himself, he scrambled across the 
barricade, followed by the sailors. 

The three moved out slowly, and halted once some 
twenty paces away, turning to look in the direction of 
the mutineers. They evidently spoke together, and 

180 


OPEN WAR 


181 


Davenant held up a hand. It looked from where I 
stood almost as if he begged for a truce. Then they 
resumed their way, and very slowly crossed the fatal 
reach. No shot was fired, and none of the enemy were 
visible. The rescue party arrived without interference 
at the base of the cliff, and we could see the sailors 
stooping. Presently the three turned back, and the 
sailors were carrying something between them. And 
that was how Mark Wade perished under the shadow of 
the Devil’s Pulpit. 

For the bullet had passed through his heart, as 
McLeod testified when he had somewhat recovered his 
normal state; and Wade’s last extravagance had been 
his death. 

From that moment the conflict in which we were 
engaged took a new shape. I think we had all with 
that murder insensibly turned a corner. Blood had 
been shed, and the struggle was now a matter outside 
the range of civilisation. We were fighting in a no- 
man’s land, without the pale of law, and obedient now 
only to primitive and savage instincts. The mutineers 
had taken that step, and we were committed to join 
issues with them. The only alternative was to give in, 
to turn our back on the island, and sail away ; and in the 
circumstances, with this bloody deed enacted in our 
presence, that was not to be considered. We settled 
all this at a conference that evening. Wade’s body was 
reverently bestowed in his shelter, and covered with a 
flag. His masterful will was at rest, but I think he 
would have liked to sleep in his country’s flag. Halli- 


182 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


day, who had been much shaken, and who looked ill, 
Davenant, pale but firm, McLeod and myself, met to 
consider the position. The alternative was broached, 
only to be dismissed summarily. We were resolute to 
see the thing to the end. These ruflSans had declared 
war ; war they should have. 

Davenant, pending Marley’s recovery, was now in 
charge, and he assumed the authority unobtrusively, 
giving his orders for the dispositions in his gentlemanly 
way. We had heard nothing of the mutineers since 
that f atal shot, and we did not know whether they might 
not follow it up by an assault upon the zariba. If they 
could shoot Wade in cold blood, they were doubtless 
equal to such a venture. They had clearly thrown all 
scruples to the winds. For this reason we decided to 
keep fires burning all night. We had a plentiful sup- 
ply of brushwood in our camp, and we were also free 
to come and go. This I determined at once by an 
experiment. I explored the wood around us, but could 
see no signs of the enemy. As I was returning towards 
sunset I met Davenant, who had apparently been on 
the same mission of discovery. 

“ Look here, Herapath, it won’t do for us to carry 
on like this,” he protested. “ I’d no notion you were 
gone. We must have discipline.” 

I apologised, admitting my mistake, but explained 
my reasons. 

“ Well, it’s a good thing to know that,” he said, “ and 
it’s been in my mind too. I’ve just been following the 
course of the stream downward, and find it runs crook- 


OPEN WAR 


183 


edly into a broadish creek below. I couldn’t see any 
enemy either; so maybe they’re scared by what they’ve 
done.” 

I thought it likely, but pointed out that with such 
callous ruffians as they had proved we could not be 
sure, and I emphasised the danger of a night attack. 

“ Oh, we’ll take care of that,” he said confidently. 

We lit fires in three places towards the stream and the 
southern barricade, so that any surprise from either 
side would be impossible. Davenant was of opinion 
that these would suffice, as the bush on the eastern side 
was so dense that it was not likely an attempt would 
be made from there. 

“ There’s one thing,” said Halliday, “ and that’s this 
Devil’s Pulpit. They’re likely enough to leave us alone 
if they can get at that; and under cover of dark- 
ness ” 

“My dear sir, there are the fires,” interjected 
Davenant impatiently. 

“ Well,” said Halliday with his nervous humour, 
“ under cover of the fires, I guess ” 

“ He’s right,” said I. “ The flames of the fires will 
throw darkness on the cliff side. They will have it 
their own way there.” 

“ Very well,” Davenant agreed, rather reluctantly 
as I thought. “ We’ll have a fire on that side too; and 
Smith’s our best shot, they tell me. We’ll put Smith 
there.” This was arranged, and we settled down to a 
sad and troubled night in a conflagration of light. 
There was much to exercise our thoughts upon this first 


184 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


tragic night in camp. Marley was no better, and 
McLeod feared that an operation might be necessary, 
which would be impossible in our present situation. He 
and I discussed probabilities till a late hour. I could 
hardly believe that this was the same man who had 
caused so much trouble aboard, and whom poor Wade 
had marked out as the dangerous character. His 
superficial vices were all fallen from him like scales, and 
he stood forth in his strength and generosity as a man. 
When he had left me I sat thinking, until a voice broke 
across the thread of my melancholy meditations. 

“ Mr. Herapath, I just simply can’t sleep,” said Miss 
Sylvester plaintively. “ I can’t get that out of my 
eyes, and I can’t help hearing it all too. Oh, I can’t 
forget it.” 

“ Sit and talk with me, then,” I said soothingly. “ I 
too want company. Thinking’s bad at times, and I’m 
sure it is for you. Let’s look at that smoke and the fire 
inside. Doesn’t that remind you of the pillar of fire 
by night.? ” I made room for her by me, and she sat 
down with a little sigh. “ Don’t you find the power of 
association a wonderful comfort.? There’s comfort even 
in a phrase, a well-worn phrase. It is not the wind 
in those tropical palms I hear now ; it is the low thunder 
of the organ in my father’s church when I was a boy 
and listened to it across the intervening lawn and hedge, 
as I lay abed of nights. And those pyres — ^have you 
ever sat out on a summer day when the couch fires were 
alight in the fields.? How homely it can all be if one 
yields to the magic of old associations ! We are not 


OPEN WAR 


185 


here on an inclement and inhospitable desert island, with 
the windy breath of the salt Atlantic in our 
nostrils ” 

She shuddered, and sank against me. “ Oh, how 
monstrous and horrible that looks — that Devil’s rock! 
It comes out and goes back into the night with the 
leaping of the flames.” 

She nestled into me like a child, all else forgotten save 
her fear, and by the pressure of that warm and living 
body I was indescribably affected. A deep thrill went 
through me, and I put my arm about her. I had 
thought of her as a wa3rward and troublesome girl, as 
a coquette with little feeling, as of one self-conscious of 
her own beauty. And now I knew her merely for a help- 
less, dependent, and lovely woman. I had not been taken 
by her sexual caprices and foibles; I was profoundly 
and unexpectedly moved by her feminine weakness. 

“ Little girls,” said I, tremulously and foolishly, 
“ little girls should all be abed by this time in sensible 
cabins on board sensible ships. I think we’ll make a 
journey to-morrow and see what the old tramp is about. 
Really, it would be very nice and comfortable there; 
now wouldn’t it ? ” 

A faint “ Yes ” came to me; and then, as if she would 
apologise for this default of her hitherto brave spirit, 
she added: “It’s that — it’s Captain Wade, you know; 
I didn’t mind before. I never knew things would 
be ” 

Poor child, I had wondered how rude an awakening 
she would have from this romantic dream of hers, but 


186 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


I had not suspected that it would be so rude and so 
sudden. I looked across at the Pulpit, which at the 
base was lit as brightly as by a full moon in the flames 
of the fires. And then from the scene of the tragedy 
my eyes travelled upward along the dimmer outhne till 
they reached the summit. It wavered in and out of 
vision, as she had said, like a ghost that appears and 
disappears. It suggested something mysterious, some- 
thing foreboding, something menacing even, that great 
wall, that bulging platform in the dusk above and the 
loom of the superior heights that vanished into heaven 
and night beyond all. 

I gazed, piercing the gloom with all the might of my 
eyes, when I became aware of a darker blotch in that 
darkness above, a blotch that moved, as if it were a 
blacker lump of air in the surrounding space. I 
sat up. 

“ What is it ? ” murmured Miss Sylvester drowsily. 

She was near sleep now, exhausted by the day and 
its troubles ; I laid her gently down, and covered her 
from the night air. 

The blotch descended, dropping into the arena of 
lesser darkness, and becoming plainer by comparison. 
I knew what it was now, and I went forward to where 
McLeod sat by the fire. I pointed it out to him. 

“What.f^” he said stupidly, for he too had, been 
dozing. 

“ It’s someone descending by a rope from the top 
of the cliff,” I said. “See, just there! He’s clearer 
now.” 


OPEN WAR 187 

McLeod rubbed his eyes. “ Gosh ! ” he said, and 
stared. 

“ It’s an attempt to drop on to the Pulpit,” I said. 
“We must give the alarm to Davenant.” 

“ Hell ! ” cried McLeod in his Scottish voice, and ran 
quickly away from me. 

Within two minutes he was back, but I did not 
notice in the darkness what he carried until he levelled 
a gun. 

“ McLeod ! ” I called ; but the report was my only 
answer. The camp awoke about us, and voices engaged 
together. Davenant came tumbling out of his hut to 
our side. 

“ What is it ? ” he demanded. 

We did not answer, for we were both looking hard at 
the figure on the rope through the night. It had come 
to a pause in mid-air a hundred feet, I judged, above 
the Pulpit, and fully six hundred feet above the earth 
below. 

“ Did you hit ? ” I whispered. 

“ I don’t miss,” he rasped back. 

The figure hung still, and now it dangled to the 
moving of the rope. The fire, kicked into a blaze, 
belched flames to the sky, and flickered on the dancing 
figure. In that light it had the appearance to me of a 
monstrous monkey toy that jumps to strings from 
above. It was lurid ; it was horrible. And of a sudden 
it ceased, and yet the cessation was as horrible. Never- 
theless, I was glad it had gone, though I cried out even 
as it fell. For above, some hand had ruthlessly cut 


188 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


through the now useless rope, and the body dropped 
with a revolting thud through six hundred feet of 
empty space. I heard McLeod’s voice steady by 
me: 

“ That’s one for old Wade.” 

The camp was troubled and silent. Men spoke in 
whispers, realising now what all this portended. 
McLeod put away his gun, and went back to the fire. 
Davenant had said not a word, and I thought he was 
silent because he did not know what to say. The shoot- 
ing of this hapless wretch had not been authorised, but 
McLeod might easily have defended it. Some action 
had to be taken at once, and the mutineers were prac- 
tically outlaws. This was no-man’s land, as I have 
said. But the deed had been done, and nothing could 
avail to recall it. There was nothing to be said. I 
went back to where Miss Sylvester lay, and found her 
awake and startled. I watered the truth down into 
something more innocent and less hideous. There had 
been an alarm, I told her, and a sentry had fired; but 
all was well now. Well! I began to have a deeper 
dread myself, now that man’s unbridled and naked pas- 
sions had been roused. I was all the more determined 
that the girl should return to the ship when daylight 
came. 

This proposal I made to Davenant in the morning, 
and he cordially agreed. 

“ It just fits in properly, Herapath,” he told me, 
speaking briskly, for he quite seemed to have discharged 
from his memory the unpleasant event of the night. 


OPEN WAR 


189 


I was going to make a suggestion to you. You see, 
we’re likely to be here some time ; at least we’ve got to 
be prepared for that. And that makes your proposal 
all the more necessary. But we’ll want a store of pro- 
visions, and so I suggest that you should take some of 
the men and bring them up from the ship. There’s 
some in our cache, but we’ll want more. You can get 
down to the boat by an easier way than we came up, 
and you’re not likely to be interfered with. You should 
be back by nightfall.” 

“ Good,” I said ; “ an excellent idea, killing two birds 
with one stone. I’ll want two men. Can you spare 
them.? ” 

“Oh, we’re safe enough here; they wouldn’t dare 
attack in daylight, with our stiff brushwork. I’ll 
undertake to hold them off tiU you return, if they do 
come.” 

“ Right,” I assented. “ I should like Colhns and 
Carter.” 

“ The very men I was going to propose you should 
take,” he replied cheerfully. “ Yes, you’re right to 
get Miss Sylvester away, and the sooner you start the 
better.” 

The news of the mutineer’s horrid death had drifted 
to the girl’s ears by this time, and she welcomed my 
suggestion as to her departure. 

“ Yes ; I don’t want to be here any longer,” she said. 
“ It’s dreadful. I didn’t know people were such cruel 
savages.” 

“ Oh, life is cruel, as cruel as death,” I said, “ But 


190 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


you’re too young to learn it. That is a lesson which is 
better left to come slowly.” 

We started at eight o’clock on our journey back to 
the cove, in which we had landed only thirty-six hours 
before. How much had happened in that brief period 
— how much that was irretrievable ! It was a fine cool 
morning with a promise of later heat, and we set off 
slantwise from the stream with alacrity, keeping a 
course on the lower slopes of the wooded hills towards 
the east. In our night journey we had kept to the 
summit, and had thus needlessly, as we discovered, 
experienced greater difficulties. For the lower slopes 
were more sparsely wooded, and progress was not 
arduous. As we went, however, the sun grew stronger 
and beat upon us fiercely, so that we were glad to rest 
and take some refreshment on the banks of a pleasant 
little crystal stream which ran merrily towards the blue 
water, which we could see a mile below us sparkling and 
brightening under the sun. The bluff of a headland 
hid the Duncannon from us. 

Miss Sylvester’s spirits had risen since our departure 
from the camp. She was of essentially a volatile 
nature, and lived, as I had observed, in the present. I 
do not say that she had forgotten the tragic incidents 
which had scared her, but she certainly was able to 
keep her mind from them, and this, I conceived, by the 
rapt contemplation and enjoyment of the phenomena 
around her. There was much to observe and much to 
stimulate. Other people’s thoughts might be flying 
forward to the cache and the Duncannon and our ulti- 


OPEN WAR 


191 


mate destiny, but not so Ariadne Sylvester’s — for that 
I learned now was her beautiful name. She lived in a 
riot of her senses on the way down, touched to sensitive 
issues by the sunshine and the sparkling sea, by the 
green, green woods, the bird life, and the cool water. 
And the lithe grace with which she moved was wonderful 
and exquisite to the eye. 

If it had not been for the serious issues of the impend- 
ing conflict, and the tragic facts of the past four and 
twenty hours, it would have been possible to enjoy our 
excursion as a pleasant picnic. We ate our biscuits 
and tinned salmon and drank of the cold, clear water, 
and were refreshed by the shade and the swirl of the 
stream. ’Miss Sylvester let herself drift on the current 
of her feelings. She gazed dreamily down towards the 
sea. 

“ Is that the Spanish Main there ? ” she asked. “ And 
is this where Drake and Raleigh and all those old adven- 
turers sailed and fought.?” 

“ The Spanish Main is not the sea,” I explained, 
“ but the land. This is the Caribbean Sea, which, I 
think, is pretty romantic enough in sound.” 

“ Romantic ! ” she echoed, and her face changed, 
swiftly clouding. “ Oh, I don’t want that kind of 
romance. If that is romance, I don’t want it. But it 
isn’t. Romance is — oh, it’s different. Drake and 
Raleigh and those gallant seamen ” 

“ Were buccaneers, some say,” I put in. “ They 
sacked cities, they ravaged the settlements, they sank 
ships, they took lives.” 


192 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


She sighed. “ Why is it all so confusing.? ” she 
asked. 

“ Romance is the cream of tragedy,” I said. “ It 
is thrown up by sordid adventures; it emerges from 
rough and horrid facts. It’s all in the eye of the mind. 
We can see with a romantic cast, if that is our tempera- 
ment. Personally, I see no glory and no haloes in blood 
and mud. But blood and mud are necessary. We 
mustn’t be sentimentalists. And out of that ugly 
admixture may arise great and noble deeds. There 
you have the quintessence then of romance and the 
romantic.” 

“ But that,” she said in a low voice, glancing back 
towards the hills from which we had descended, that 
was not necessary.” 

“ No; but our struggle with it is necessary. Wade 
died finely, if foolishly. I should not like to say that 
no noble thing would be accomplished even here on this 
empty tiny island before we have done. Nobility and 
magnanimity and all great virtues are bom in the dust- 
heap, and in the charnel-house, amid the lusts and 
cmelties of human life.” 

She went for long in silence when we resumed, and I 
respected her mood, falling back to talk with Collins 
and Carter. The former was anxious to know if there 
was any likelihood of an attack on the camp, and I 
told him that Davenant was confident of holding it in 
safety. 

“ There’s none too many, sir,” he said doubtfully, 
“ and now we’re away.” 


OPEN WAR 


19S 


“ I’d trust Mr. Davenant,” said the slow Carter. 
“ He’s a good sailor, and he knows his mind. I think 
he’s took this a bit anxiously. He was up all night, 
and off in the bush, exploring. He ought to be dead 
beat. Why, I was wore out when on watch this morn- 
ing, and I nearly fell asleep, when I seed him climbing 
back over the barricade. ’Twas only then he seemed 
settled like in his mind. I reckon he’d put things all 
right then.” 

Davenant had evidently been busy, and I wondered 
that he had not spoken to me of his nocturnal expedi- 
tion. On the whole, I thought he made a better head 
than Marley would have done with his free and easy 
methods. 

We climbed the bluff by a low-lying saddle, and 
descended into the cove beyond, where after some 
exploration we discovered the boat high and dry under 
some bushes, and were able to identify the cache. This 
we opened, but were disappointed at finding the pro- 
visions therein to be fewer in quantity than we had 
anticipated. Doubtless in the haste of our flight there 
had not been time to collect a great deal. The matter 
was, however, of slight consequence, since we had the 
ship to draw from; and there she lay, floating tran- 
quilly on a tranquil sea, barely a mile away. 

We soon pushed the boat down the slope and over the 
sand, till it ran with a splash into the pellucid blue 
waters. The bay shelved steeply, but I could see far 
down into its depths, where little crabs walked cross- 
ways, and shells were buried in the sand. Miss Syl- 


194 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


vester, charmed by the unaccustomed sight, hung over 
the side of the boat as under the powerful strokes of 
Collins and Carter we drew out of the quiet cove towards 
the sparkling waters of the broad ocean. 

It was by now high noon, and a little ripple lapped 
about the boat, and a light breeze blew in our faces. 
The flag at the peak of the tramp fluttered gently. It 
was halcyon weather. When we drew close enough to 
hail I raised my voice, and a figure appeared in the 
stern of the Duncannon. “ Halloa ! ” it said. 

“ Mr. Digby there ” I called out. 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” said the man after a moment’s pause. 

“ Right ; make ready when we come along. We’ll 
want the gangway.” 

I steered her against the side, and the gangway was 
let down. Two or three of the hands were above, look- 
ing down, but not Digby. I passed Miss Sylvester up, 
and proceeded to follow her. As I stepped aboard I 
asked the quartermaster, who stood with a grin on his 
face, where Digby was. 

“ In his cabin, sir,” he replied. 

Collins and Carter were busy with the boat below. 

“ Come along,” called Edwards ; “ we’ll see to it. 
Anxious for a job these days.” 

Collins and Carter clambered up, and as the latter 
stepped over the side I was seized by the arm. I swung 
about amazed, and found I was in the hands of three 
men. 

‘‘ What the devil’s this ? ” I demanded. 

‘‘ We weren’t going to take no risks with you,” said 


OPEN WAR 


195 


Edwards, with a chuckle. “ One apiece is good enough 
for the others.” 

“ So,” I said, making no attempt to struggle, “ so 
you’re Clifford’s dirty party too, eh? ” 

“ We’re going to take you to Mr. Digby, sir,” ex- 
plained the ringleader. “ You won’t come to no harm 
here. There’s lots of grub and drink.” 

I understood now. These men, whom we had sup- 
posed loyal, had been left on board to deceive us, and 
to hold the ship for their companions. They had made 
a prisoner of Digby, probably immediately we had gone, 
and now they held us captive. In the light of this fresh 
discovery it was plain that we had undertaken a desper- 
ate task in the defence of the Devil’s Pulpit. Our 
fortress was weaker by the loss of three men, and its 
source of supplies was cut off. Only a miracle or an 
accident could save it now. I looked about. Miss 
Sylvester had vanished. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 

Our captors took us down into the saloon, thrust us 
into a cabin, and there ironed us. They did not display 
any animosity in doing so, and the quartermaster, at 
least, did not seem averse from conversation. I saw he 
was anxious to learn exactly what had happened on the 
island, but I had no intention of letting him know. I 
wondered what instructions he had and when he received 
them. It was probable that the mutineers ashore had 
not communicated with their fellows aboard, and that 
the latter were acting on general instructions received 
when Clifford, Byrne, and Crashaw left the ship. So 
I returned my gaoler’s good humour, but told him 
nothing. We were given food and left to our own 
uncomfortable thoughts. The sun streamed through 
the porthole, but it was dark on the floor where we lay, 
and the closed cabin was stuffy with heat. Digby was 
not with us, but we assumed that he was somewhere 
near, probably in the next cabin. 

“ This ain’t a nice situation,” volunteered the equable 
Carter. 

“ If I could only get my thoomb free I think I could 
manage to get rid of these irons,” said Collins in his 
broad accent as he struggled. 

But I had no such hope; my mind was busy in 
196 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 19T 


another way. I wanted a visit from the quarter- 
master. But it was not he whom we saw first; for 
when the door opened at last it let in the face of the 
little Frenchman. He peered down on us cautiously, 
without any expression in his eyes, as if he were con- 
templating some strange and rather uninteresting 
animals. Then he saluted civilly enough, and inquired 
if we were comfortable. 

“ It’s not our bodies we’re thinking of,” I told him. 
“ It’s our feelings that suffer. This means the ruin of 
Halliday’s enterprise.” 

“ Pouf ! ” he said contemptuously. ‘‘ I did not be- 
lieve in that treasure. It was all ” He shrugged 

his shoulders. ‘‘ I have heard many tales like that, 
monsieur. There has never been one word of truth in 
them. They will find it out too, these mutineers; and 
then we will sail away comfortable and at convenience 
for Baltimore.” 

He was cool and collected and capable. He had the 
air of standing aloof from the contending parties and 
waiting patiently until they should come to their senses. 

“ I wish I could help you,” he said politely ; “ but 
what will you.'^ I have no authority here.” Again he 
shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘ Yet if the irons hurt I 
would see what could be done.” 

As they did not specially incommode us he left us, 
and we fell to brooding over the situation again. I 
wondered how it was M. Carvaulx came to be free, while 
Digby was under restraint, and concluded that the 
mutineers saw no reason to fear anything from a weak 


198 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


and helpless old man. We were left to our dismal 
reflections for some hours. Collins struggled at inter- 
vals with his gyves, and occasionally Carter made a 
remark which was more or less fatuous if honest. His 
philosophy annoyed me, who was chafing in my bonds. 

‘‘ I knowed there was something on,” he said once, 
like Mr. F.’s aunt, to the air. “ But I didn’t know so 
many was in it.” 

‘‘ Why on earth didn’t you say so.^^ ” I asked, out of 
patience. 

He shook his head. “ ’Tisn’t for the likes of me. 
I wouldn’t take it upon me. I knows my place.” 

He was imperturbable in his stupidity, and really 
thought he was holding the scales of justice by strict 
neutrality. I gathered that it was a grief to him to 
have had to take sides. 

“ Not but what I’m in it now,” he added more reas- 
suringly. “ And I do my dooty when I has to. I’ll 
lay I’m in it now,” he repeated cheerfully. 

Collins had paused in his operations, red of face. 
‘‘ D’ye think you could reach the door, sir ? ” he in- 
quired in a mysterious whisper. 

“ I can try,” I said, and being nearest it, I rolled 
over. A crack on my head brought the water into my 
eyes. 

“ Eh, pardon ! ” said a voice. 

I gathered my body and my senses together, and 
looked up. M. Carvaulx stood with his hand on the 
open door, and beside him the quartermaster, Edwards, 
with a sheepish smile on his face. 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 199 


‘‘ Will you give us your word of honour, sir, not to 
attempt to escape if I knock the irons off of you? ” 
he asked. 

“ My good scoundrel, what’s the use of that to us? ” 
I said. “ I’m not pining for your company.” 

He cast a glance at the Frenchman, who observed us 
without expression; then they went out, and I could 
hear their voices issuing from the saloon. In half-an- 
hour they returned, and the quartermaster began 
silently to loosen the irons. 

“ I am glad to say, Mr. Herapath, that they have 
consented to release you,” said Carvaulx airily. He 
looked on with indifferent eyes. I was puzzled. 

“ You must promise not to give us away,” mumbled 
the quartermaster awkwardly. ‘‘ I’m taking a risk 
with this job.” 

“ You’re taking a bigger risk by associating yourself 
with those mutineers,” I said sharply. “ What do you 
suppose will be the end of that? ” 

“ Damn it, sir, if you had Crashaw to buck up 
against, you’d think twice,” he protested sullenly. 
“ Anyways, I want your word of honour to be mum 
on this.” 

“ We’re not likely to be seeing Crashaw in a friendly 
way,” I said sarcastically. “ You can depend on 
that.” 

By this time I was free, and I rose and stretched 
myself. “ I don’t know how it has been managed,” I 
said, “ but I can only conceive, sir, that we are indebted 
to you for this.” 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


SOO 

M. Carvaulx smiled faintly. “ I have been at pains 
to explain to these gentlemen,” he said, “ my opinion of 
treasure.” 

“ Then they give up ? ” I queried in surprise. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “ Not exactly that; but 
have you not an old — oh yes, a proverb which says ‘ A 
bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.?^ ’ ” He 
smiled. “ They have the bird in hand.” 

I understood. He had bribed them, but why? And 
even as I thanked him I knew, and even as I knew he 
told us. 

“ My niece was exigeante,** he said with admirable 
frankness. “ She took your capture much to heart. 
She is impulsive,” he added after a contemplative pause. 
If it had depended on M. Carvaulx alone I was sure we 
should have been still in irons, but, nevertheless, we were 
deeply in his debt, and I acknowledged the fact. 

“ It is nothing,” he said, deprecating my thanks. 

A few of your Enghsh five-pound notes, voila! ” 

By this time the others had been released, and now 
joined us in the saloon, followed by the quartermaster. 

“We shall want our boat,” I said to the latter 
authoritatively. I did not know how far the compact 
with Carvaulx went, and so I bluffed. 

“ You can’t have any stores,” he said hastily. 

I was relieved. It was not intended to keep us on 
the ship. 

“ Look here, my man,” I said bluntly. “ I’m wilHng 
to look over all this, and forget it, and I can promise 
others will forget it, if you’ll come back to duty.” 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA W1 


“You couldn’t buck up against Crashaw,” he said 
after a pause. “ No, we’ve gone too far.” 

“ Well, you, at least, have hands clean of blood,” I 
urged. “ Stop while it’s yet time.” 

“ Blood ! ” he echoed, staring at me. 

“Yes, man; didn’t you know.'* They’ve killed the 
captain; a deliberate foul murder! ” 

His jaw dropped. “ By the Lord 1 ” he said. 

“ Come along,” said the Frenchman in my ear. “ We 
must get that boat.” 

I thought of Digby, but I knew that our own for- 
tunes depended upon immediate action now; and so I 
turned and followed him up the stairs, and we came on 
deck. The sun was declining away in the west, but stiU 
shone strongly. The water lapped the sides of the 
tramp. A few sailors watched us curiously as we 
descended the ladder to our boat, but no one endeav- 
oured to prevent us. Evidently they had all enjoyed 
backsheesh. And they were too far away from the 
scene of action to take things strenuously, and I knew 
now they were in ignorance of what had happened. 

“ While he is in this confusion and doubt it is our » 
time,” said Carvaulx to me. “ He may change his 
mind on considering your news.” 

“ Are you coming ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes,” he nodded. “ And Ariane must come too. 
She cannot be left. Stay, I will bring her.” 

He ran from the gangway towards the deck cabin, 
the door of which was thrust open ere he reached it, 
and Miss Sylvester emerged, her young face bright and 


202 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


eager. Next moment they had joined us, and were 
descending. There was no time for words between us. 

“ If you please, cast oflP,” said the Frenchman 
urgently. The quartermaster appeared above, looking 
down on us in perplexity. 

I laughed. “ There is no fear,” I said. ‘‘ Barring 
firearms, the whole ship’s crew could not take us now.” 

We pushed off, and Edwards’s face was still directed 
towards us racked with doubt and fear. 

“ So the captain is dead,” said the Frenchman, seat- 
ing himself comfortably in the bows. “ So Ariane said. 
Ah ! ” He meditated, while the distance between the 
boat and the steamer lengthened. Ariadne looked at me, 
her eyes shining with joy. 

“ You are not afraid to be going back.?* ” I whispered. 

She shook her head. “ I could not have stayed there. 
They are mutineers too.” 

“We owe everything to your pleading and your 
uncle’s generosity,” I said gratefully. 

“ No ; nothing. I am with you. I am on your side, 
and I was glad to do even so little. Perhaps I shall do 
more. Who knows ? ” 

We skirted the island westward, without landing in 
the cove, as I had an idea in my head, which was to 
explore the creek into which the stream from our camp 
ran. I supposed that here the mutineers would have 
their boat, for although they had landed at the back 
of the island, they would not be likely to leave the boat 
so far distant from their permanent camp. Accord- 
ingly we beached within the creek quietly, and I began 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 203 


to make an examination. There was no boat on the 
water, nor could we discover any signs of the presence 
of one in that tidal basin. I was disappointed, for I 
had promised myself that I should deliver an unexpected 
blow at the enemy by the capture of their lines of com- 
munication. However, our immediate duty was to 
report the situation to Davenant, and so, having be- 
stowed our own boat in a safe place, we set out in the 
cool of the evening up the course of the stream. We 
had been absent ten hours, and had accomplished 
nothing. We were even returning with Miss Sylvester, 
whose presence we had decided was inconvenient in the 
camp. 

This part of the island, as I have explained, was not 
so roughly wooded, and we made easy progress, ar- 
riving below the stockade just on dusk. Here occurred 
an event which at once began to trouble me. I was 
ahead of the others, and we were walking in silence as 
a precaution, when my ears detected a noise in the 
bushes on my left. I brought the others to a halt with 
a gesture, and stole forward, parting the bushes care- 
fully with my hands to make way for my eyes. Beyond 
was a little clearing, and under the trees were seated 
two men, conversing in a low voice and at the same time 
engaged in some occupation which I could not at once 
determine. Nor could I recognise them at the distance, 
although it was obvious to which party they belonged. 
Presently, as I looked, one got to his feet, and picked 
up something from the ground. I knew him now for a 
big Dago, by name Benuto, and simultaneously I recog- 


£04 THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 

nised what he had in his hand. It was a large Colt’s 
revolver. 

Here was an alarming discovery, which was intensi- 
fied next moment when the second man rose; for I saw 
now that they had been engaged in filling a pouch with 
cartridges. My heart began to jump, for what might 
this portend? Without noise I left the point of espial 
and returned to my companions. 

“ It looks as if an attack were contemplated,” I said. 
“ We must hurry forward at once. M. Carvaulx, I 
advise you to take Miss Sylvester and retire to the creek 
below. This is no place for non-combatants.” 

He pondered. “ Yes, you are right,” he agreed. 
‘‘ But we will not go so far. You may be mistaken. 
We will part now and go that way.” He pointed east- 
ward through the falling evening. 

I nodded. We must act now, and not talk. We 
had, I discovered, two revolvers between us, and these 
we loaded. Then we set forward, making a slight 
detour so as to avoid falling in with the mutineers 
if any of them should be in the direct line of our 
course. 

Of a sudden the silence was broken by a shot, and, as 
if this had been the signal, a confused outbreak of 
voices and sounds ensued. A revolver was banging 
away on my left, and I directed my steps towards the 
sound, falling into a run. Carter and Collins jogged 
along behind me, and as I ran I heard Carvaulx’s voice 
raised in command. 

“ Ariane ! Ariane ! ” 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 205 


I glanced round. The girl was following in our 
tracks, breathless. 

“ Back ! Back ! ” I shouted, gesticulating, but I 
dared not stop. I saw her waver and come to a pause, 
and then the bushes hid her. 

The noises increased ahead, swelling into a fusillade 
of yapping pistols. I remembered with regret that 
only two of us were armed in this emergency, and as I 
did so an idea came to me. I turned, and, scarcely 
pausing, threw my revolver to Carter, who was 
weaponless. 

“ Use that,” I panted, ‘‘ and use it well. You’re 
with us, mind.” 

“ Ay, ay, sir,” he called back with an energy which 
dissipated my doubts of him. 

In my direct path was the ruin of a fallen tree, and, 
swiftly detaching one of the stouter branches, with an 
abrupt wrench I darted forward with my new weapon. 
It formed a sort of rude barbaric club with a long 
handle, and I could feel it plying and giving elastically 
in my hands as I ran. The next moment we came out 
of the wood upon the barricade. 

The dusk was gathering, but the figures were plainly 
visible in that theatre of battle. Davenant stood upon 
the brushwood, elevated against the sky, and in full 
view from either side of the barricade; and as he stood 
there, so rashly exposed, he pointed and shouted some- 
thing which I could not hear. His back was towards 
us, and he was not aware of our approach. In the 
middle distance I recognised two of our men in hand- 


W6 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


to-hand conflict with mutineers; and a constant pop- 
ping of revolvers enhanced the confusion of the scene. 
The mutineers were over the brushwood barrier, and the 
camp was all but in their hands. We took the barri- 
cade, as a hurdle, and dashed up. Collins’s weapon 
flashed out near me, and one of the mutineers, strug- 
gling by the stream, fell. Then, oblivious to all else 
save my personal share in the mellay, I fell on with my 
mace. Two mutineers were descending into the camp 
from the brushwood, and the first of these went down 
with the club on his crown ; the second fired at me point- 
blank, and a ball singed my face. Then his skull 
cracked as he tumbled on his fellow. More men were 
mounting out of the dusk, and it was evident that 
the stronger part of the attacking force was still to 
come. 

“ To me! To me!” I cried, leaping forward to the 
barricade. 

Collins hurried to my side, panting and puffing. I 
glanced round. The two mutineers by the stream had 
disappeared, but one body lay outstretched along the 
bank. McLeod and another man were fighting at 
the back. Where was Davenant? He had gone from 
the brushwood pile, and I could see nothing of him. 

« We’ve got them checked now,” I said to Collins. 
“ McLeod is holding that side, and we can hold this.” 

His revolver answered promptly the appearance of a 
head beyond the barrier, and it was hurriedly with- 
drawn. Except for the sounds which came from 
McLeod’s side there was now silence. 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 207 


“ Hold this,” I said to Collins. “ Have you cart- 
ridges? Shoot on the slightest provocation.” 

I ran back, crossed by the shelters, and joined 
McLeod as his companion stumbled heavily and fell. 
There were three mutineers on this side, and one was 
armed with a gun which he was using as a club. This 
club met mine and crumpled up ; he lost his balance and 
staggered. My mace recovered and descended ere he 
could recover. He lay beside our fallen sailor. 
McLeod, from behind a tree, began to spit fire, and one 
of the mutineers uttered an oath, dropped a useless 
arm by his side, and turned to fly. I took the third — 
well, somewhere in his hinderparts, as he too turned, to 
assist him in his retreat. He was a little out of reach, 
but he yelled like a Red Indian, and the last I saw of 
him was scrabbling futilely at the barricade of bushes, 
and being helped over by his companion. I turned to 
McLeod. Silence had fallen. We were victors. The 
dusk deepened. 

It was broken by a leaping light, and I saw someone 
against a pyre. I went over, and found it was Dave- 
nant. 

« We’re well out of that,” was his greeting. “You 
came in the nick of time.” 

“ It’s a wonder we came at all,” I said. 

“ How’s that ? ” he asked. The flames lapping up 
the dry wood ascended in tongues to heaven. The 
camp flared with it, and the darkness of the surround- 
ing wood was enhanced by it. 

“We were seized by the remainder of the crew,” I 


208 


THE DEVIL'S PULPIT 


explained. “ They’ve joined the mutineers. We were 
jockeyed there. We played into their hands like 
lambs.” 

“ Seized, were you.^ ” he said, staring. ‘‘ How did 
you escape.? ” 

Before I could tell my story Carter came up. 

“ There’s one of ’em dead along the stream, sir,” he 
said in his matter-of-fact voice, “ and that there one 
you hit — he ain’t going to give much trouble — 
an Italian he was, called Bellows.” 

“ Belloso ! ” I corrected. “ How many on our 
side? ” 

“ Let’s go and see,” said Davenant. We encoun- 
tered McLeod, breathing hard, but very well satisfied 
with himself. 

“ You’ve broken that fellow’s skull, Herapath,” he 
said. “ Lord, what a flail to lay on with ! ” 

“ Much damage ? ” I asked. 

“ That poor beggar Atchison’s gone,” he said. That 
was the man who was shot just as I reached him. 

“ It’s a bad business all round,” said I. 

Collins was lighting another pyre by the waterside. 
We walked in brightness, a mark for any sharpshooter, 
but I don’t think any one of us gave a thought to this. 
And as for the mutineers, they had had enough for that 
day. There were no signs of them. We reckoned up 
the losses. One of our men had been killed, and three, 
including Collins, wounded. Collins’s wound was only 
in the hand, and he made light of it. On the other side 
the casualties were heavier. Two of the mutineers had 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 209 


been killed, and we had two of them wounded in our 
custody. How much more they had suffered we could 
not say. Suddenly I recalled Halliday. Where 
was he.f^ 

We found him, on searching, near one of the fires, 
where he sat with a piece of paper and a pencil busily 
engaged in making notes. 

“ Say, Herapath,” he eagerly exclaimed, looking up 
at me, “ I’ve just got the most all-fired notion to get 
that treasure out of there. You sit down right here, 
and I’ll show you. It came upon me hke a flash just as 
I was pulling the trigger of this engine. Say 
now ” 

He rose excitedly, but I interrupted somewhat curtly. 
“ Oh, hang it, we’ve got other fish to fry at present. 
Let that keep. Do you know that Atchison’s dead, 
and that two of their men are dead too ? ” 

“ Say, now, that’s a nuisance about Atchison,” re- 
marked Halhday, scratching his head reflectively. A 
handkerchief untwisted itself on his arm, and dangled. 

“ What’s this ? ” I asked. 

He looked out of his dream. “ That.?^ Oh, I guess I 
got stung by one of those wasps,” he said indifPerently. 

His coolness staggered me; his power of abstraction 
was something utterly unfamiliar. The ideahst was in 
full play, and nothing mattered but the “ scheme.” 
Nothing had any proportion beside it. Outside the 
light of that scheme there was darkness. It was a sun 
by which nothing else in the heavens was visible. He 
came back slowly to earth. 


210 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I reckon this was pretty tough,” he remarked, 
glancing about. 

“ We couldn’t stand much more of it,” said I. 

“ I’m just going to make it nice and comfortable for 
all those sailors who have stood by me loyally,” he said 
with the complacency of one who is already in posses- 
sion of a fortune. “ You must just make me out a list, 
Herapath, and I’ll square generously with the widows 
and orphans. They won’t find Vincent Halliday a cold 
stone, you bet. Come along now, and we’ll tot up how 
we stand.” 

He made a move for the big tree under which he had 
built his shelter of brushwood, and I followed him, 
affected in a strange way by his remarkable attitude. 
Here was I come back with the worst of news, and the 
camp saved by the skin of its teeth, so to speak, from 
the mutineers ; and this bright-eyed sanguine man was 
seated, feverishly plotting out what he should do with 
the fortune which was not his, which might not even 
exist, and from which at any rate he was cut off by 
virulent enemies. 

“ Say, Herapath,” he said, lighting his lantern, 
which hung on the brushwood break-wind, “ we’ll have 
to fix up a fresh deal. That original agreement’s in 
the melting-pot, I guess. We’ll have to hand round 
slices on another footing. I’ll have you and those men 
in anyway.” 

I turned at a sound, a rushing, whirling sound of 
skirts, and into the light of the lantern broke Ariadne 
Sylvester. 


THE STORMING OF THE ZARIBA 211 


“ Miss Sylvester ! You ! ” I said. 

“ Yes — I came to — I came to ” She was breath- 

less, and did not finish. ‘‘ I’m so glad you’re not — 
oh, I’m glad you beat them.” 

She was glowing; she looked like a creature of fire, 
a radiant nymph of the woods, with her dishevelled hair. 
Halliday had stuck his pencil behind his ear and risen. 
He offered her welcome as if he had been receiving her 
punctiliously in a soft-goods store. 

“ Now, it’s right-down good of you to come along to 
look after us,” he said courteously. ‘‘ But I’m blamed 
if I didn’t think you were on board the DuncannonJ*^ 

“ Halliday, that’s my story,” I put in, “ and it’s 
ugly.” 

He stared; and I told him. 


CHAPTER XIV 


IN THE PULPIT 

I CANNOT honestly say that my dismal tale affected 
HaUiday much. He contorted his brows in thought for 
a minute or two, and then they cleared. 

‘‘ We’ll fix them up all right,” said this unmitigated 
optimist. “ I guess we’ll freeze them out, so as they’ll 
be glad to quit. I got a notion or two.” 

Well, it must rest at that. Halliday’s notions were 
innumerable; he hatched them out prolifically; and it 
was odds but one among so many would serve. At any 
rate, he was confident. One notion he revealed that 
night as we rested after the toil and hazards of the 
assault. 

“ I don’t take no stock in a man that can’t turn and 
face about,” he said complacently. “ You got to legis- 
late for emergencies. And here’s one. Well, I’ve got 
the prescription to cure it, and that’s dynamite.” 

“ Dynamite ! ” I echoed. 

He seemed pleased with my surprise. “ Yes ; I 
thought that maybe it would come in handy, and so I 
scheduled a bit ; and what’s more, it’s cached along with 
the cans in the cove yonder.” 

But of what avail could dynamite be.^^ I pressed 
him, and gasped at the brave ingenuity of his confident 
mind. If dynamite wouldn’t blast the Devil’s Pulpit, it 
213 


IN THE PULPIT 


21S 


might blast the traitors’ camp. He had faith in dyna- 
mite — as a last resource. But other resources were not 
exhausted. He fixed his gaze contemplatively on the 
precipice, and he was owning it in his inmost thoughts. 
His possession of it was legible on his mobile face. 
There was no contending with such assurance. 

Yet our case was bad enough. On the one hand, we 
had lost the ship; on the other, our embittered and 
unscrupulous enemy lay in wait for us. Doubtless, we 
had given them a lesson which would keep them quiet 
for a time, but I felt certain that they would not aban- 
don their designs on the treasure — if treasure there 
were in the ledges of that abominable wall above us. 
Diminished in numbers, therefore, and with growing 
misgivings, we kept strict watch throughout the night. 
Miss Sylvester, it appeared, had deserted her uncle out 
of an irrisistible curiosity to know what had happened. 
At least, that was what she told us. 

“ I knew we could thrash those scoundrels — those 
murderers,” she said with vehemence. “ I wasn’t afraid 
of being beaten.” 

And yet her confusion and distress on her hasty 
arrival was hardly compatible with the assurance which 
she afterwards professed. She still remained a problem 
for us, but I was in hopes that I might persuade her in 
the morning to return to her uncle in the safer woods. 

Despite the excitement of the day’s adventures, or 
indeed perhaps because of it, I was unable to sleep more 
than a few hours, and it must have been one o’clock in 
the morning when I at last gave up the attempt and 


S14 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


strolled ooit into the light and shadow of the fires. I 
passed one of our men on sentinel duty near the water, 
and exchanged a friendly sentence with him. A cool 
air fanned my face very agreeably, rolling in from the 
sea. I looked up at the vague wall behind, from which 
the projections of the Pulpit stood out darkly. And 
then I remembered an earlier thought of mine regarding 
the stream. 

I went down to this, and walked into it up to my 
thighs. The mutineers’ quarters could be seen in the 
flame of our fires on the distant mound. I wondered if 
they kept so strict a watch after their repulse and 
disaster. Could Crashaw keep his men in hand after 
so signal a defeat.? Bending my body towards the face 
of the stream I crept across towards the bushes on the 
other side. The torrent broke over me a dozen times, 
and I all but fell on a round boulder underfoot; but I 
succeeded in reaching the bushes, and rested under 
their shelter for a little while, using my eyes to make 
observations from my new place of vantage in the 
meantime. 

The stream brawled out of cavernous darkness some 
fifty yards away, and I meant to make this my second 
stage. Consequently I once more crawled, waist-deep, 
with bent head, along the bed of the water. The cur- 
rent was tremendous, and every step I took was as if 
some heavy blow was delivered on my body, while in ad- 
dition the water was dragging at my legs. Still I made 
my way, if slowly, upward, and without causing an 
alarm arrived at the mouth of the gorge through which 


IN THE PULPIT 


215 


the stream tumbled. Once there I was safe from obser- 
vation, even if I could accomplish nothing more. Here 
darkness hung between the walls, and I could at first 
make out nothing of my surroundings. But presently 
the dim mass of the precipice on both sides emerged 
upon the sight, and as I pressed forward and upward, 
still in the stream, which ran cold as ice, I was aware by 
my ears of a cascade somewhere at the back of the little 
canon. The stream must rise somewhere high up, and 
come down in falls on its abrupt and sudden way to the 
sea. I was momentarily getting more and more chilled, 
and I decided that I must leave the water. On each 
side was rough rock, in the interstices and ledges of 
which bushes and creepers were growing. I clambered 
out of the torrent on the east side — that is, towards the 
wall of the precipice which rose into the Devil’s Pulpit 
on its south side. 

At first I found the ascent easy, for the numerous 
bushes were of invaluable assistance in climbing, but 
presently they became sparser, and the elevation almost 
perpendicular. I was afraid of making a mistake in 
the darkness, and of being precipitated down upon the 
rocks and boulders below. I tried every outstanding 
stone or bush thoroughly before trusting to it, and I 
mounted very slowly. When I had reached the height, 
as I guessed, of about a hundred feet, the precipice 
suddenly ceased, and I found myself climbing under the 
loom of great walls at an angle of sixty degrees. It 
was as if I had slipped unawares into a narrow valley 
path cut in those rock mountains, and I wondered as I 


216 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


went if by chance this could be the way in which the 
former ascents to the treasure had been made. I was 
by now full of the spirit of my adventure, and I moved 
with greater speed and confidence. Nothing, I think, 
would have turned me back. The track between rocky 
spurs, like a gutter on the leads, now twisted and began 
to crawl over a shoulder, and presently my eyes, which 
had been peering through black night, were saluted by 
a gleam. I took a few steps farther, and the light in- 
creased. Next moment I was looking over a projecting 
rock down at the blazing fires of the camp. A dozen 
feet below me was the floor of the Pulpit! 

The sky was full of stars, and a falling moon which 
rained soft radiance upon the sheer and jagged wall 
above me. Earthward the flare of the pyres threw 
leaping shadows on the base of the precipice. For a 
moment I stood resting on the rock by which I had 
mounted and drinking in this scene with curious eyes. 
It was wonderful in its strangeness and in its beauty. 
Upon that ledge I was but an emmet, safe from the no- 
tice of any observer on the earth beneath. The waning 
crescent shed a glow westward upon the dark woods 
that descended to the sea, and far out upon the quiet 
ocean left a luminous track. From my eyrie I could 
see over the projecting headlands where the coves in- 
dented the shore-line, and the dark outline of the Dun- 
cannon was dimly visible. Beneath the smoke ascended 
in wreaths from the watch fires, which shone like fiery 
jewels through five hundred feet of space. 

I stepped down upon the floor of the Pulpit fasci- 


IN THE PULPIT 


217 


nated, and then I remembered the treasure. The ledge 
on which I stood was some twenty feet square, and rose 
on the outside edge into a natural parapet. On each 
other side the rock fell away into the space which it 
overhung. By the light of the moon I took in these 
facts and also others. The rock was overlaid by a 
slight surface of earth, but this was only a few inches 
deep, and it was, therefore, obvious that no treasure 
could have been buried there. I was fast coming to 
the conclusion that the whole story was a figment, as I 
had always in my heart conceived, when I approached 
the perpendicular wall from which the ledge jutted out. 
Here my interested and now excited gaze was caught 
by a hole yawning in the rock. I explored it, and found 
that it opened into a cavern of some dimensions. Was 
it the treasure house? And was there something 
after all in the wild story? 

I had some matches in my pocket, and, striking one, 
by the flickering light I scrutinized the cave. In on^ 
corner was a rude chest, bound with heavy iron. My 
heart leaped. I went forward, and threw the lid open. 
It was empty. Lighting a succession of matches I 
examined the floor of the cave, which was uneven. It 
was composed of black earth, and a mound of this lying 
by the chest suggested that the latter had been dug 
up. I probed with my pocket-knife, loosening the 
earth, and scooping it out with my hands until I had 
got down a foot. Then the knife struck something 
hard. Was it a second chest? Or was it merely the 
rock ? I was profoundly moved, and I went on work- 


218 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


ing, loosening and scooping, scooping and loosening, 
with the utmost energy. My matches were by this 
time exhausted, and I worked in the dark, feeling with 
my fingers, and striving to dig round this object that 
claimed my attention. Presently my knife struck 
again on something hard, and my fingers precipitately 
groped about it. It was a small thing, but even 
through the adhesive dirt I judged it to be oblong and 
regular in shape. In a word, I put it down as the work 
of a man, not of nature. I scraped off the encrustation 
of earth, and my knife this time unmistakably rattled 
on metal. So far, good. I put the metal in my pocket, 
and resumed my digging. I had by this time worked 
down to an edge — that is to say, to where the hard sur- 
face ceased — and my hopes of discovering this to be a 
chest increased. I dug along it, and each time my 
knife slipped off into soft earth. I could feel the wood- 
work now with my hands. Crouched on my knees in 
the circumambient darkness of the cavern I greedily 
toiled, oblivious to all else 

I was conscious of a ray of light, and looked up, 
wondering that the moonlight had struck through the 
aperture so opportunely. A shadow loomed behind 
me; there was a flash and then a report, and I fell for- 
ward with a sharp pain in my shoulder. . . . 

The bullet fired by my assailant lodged under my 
left shoulder-blade ; but though taken by surprise I 
did not lose my consciousness. On the contrary, 
something braced me for the impending struggle. It 
was pitch dark again, and nothing was visible, nothing 


IN THE PULPIT 


219 - 


audible. I had lifted myself up, and stood on guard, 
wrapped in the darkness, listening. I could not even 
hear breathing, yet I knew the man was in the cave. 
He too evidently was on guard, waiting. I had carried 
a revolver ever since we had landed ; but to fire would 
serve no purpose, and indeed would only disclose me 
to my enemy. A terrible silence prevailed for five 
minutes or more. At last I could endure the situation 
no longer, and I edged slightly away from where I 
imagined the back of the cavern to rise. This I accom- 
plished without any noise, and so encouraged I re- 
peated the movement. This time my boot kicked 
with a dull sound against an inequality in the floor, 
and upon that ensued a report. But the bullet missed 
me, and by the flame I detected where the other stood.. 
Instantly I fired. 

I could not tell what result my shot had, but under 
cover of the noise I slipped a couple of feet away, and 
then it occurred to me that he might have pursued sim- 
ilar tactics. To my satisfaction my manoeuvre by the 
merest luck brought me into a position from which 
the mouth of the cavern was accessible. I could see 
sideways a vision of blue-black sky and of stars. My 
best course was the boldest ; I had to take a risk ; with a 
swift step I darted for the opening, lowering my head 
as I did so to get through. The crack of my foe’s 
revolver acquainted me that I was visible between the 
cavern’s entrance and himself, but his shot whistled by. 
It was, however, owing to my increased precipitance 
at this alarm that I tripped and stumbled, and came 


I 

220 THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 

down just over the threshold of the cave and on the 
outlying floor of the Pulpit. 

Before I could recover myself someone was upon 
me. 

I struggled to rid myself of the enemy ; but he was 
astride me, and held me about the right arm with steel 
tentacles. My left was underneath, and was prac- 
tically useless owing to my wound. I felt as I struggled 
that I was being shoved and dragged, and I suddenly 
guessed, with something like a chill of the heart, at his 
purpose. We were slowly approaching the edge of 
the Pulpit, and below were five hundred feet of space! 
I renewed my efforts, and redoubled them. I was 
frantically aware of my danger, as those slender but 
remorseless and unyielding arms drew me forward inch 
by inch. I managed to raise my head and free my left 
arm, with which I gripped my assailant. He struck 
at it with the heavy butt of his pistol, and the blow 
shuddered through every bone ; yet in releasing one 
arm to do this his grip upon me had weakened. I 
lifted my head still higher, and wrenched my right arm 
free of him. All this time no word had passed between 
us, and only the sound of our struggles and our labour- 
ing breath could be heard. In my new position I 
glanced aside, and to my horror perceived that we were 
within two feet of the edge. He was straining every 
muscle to repossess himself of my right arm ; but as 
if he too had suddenly become aware of our proximity 
to death he ceased now and exerting himself, pushed me 
forward. I felt my feet dangling over the edge, and 


IN THE PULPIT 


221 


then I seized him with both arms ; and the damaged 
one, if it was no longer of active use, could still cling 
passively. If I were doomed I swore to myself he too 
should go. 

I think he saw my idea in that instant, for he ceased, 
and began to withdraw himself from my clutches. I 
held on like a vice, and he squirmed and wriggled. I 
could feel in his bones and muscles as he fought me 
that he was no match for me even in my crippled con- 
dition. He pulled against me, and I let him go, 
and jerked after him. This performance I repeated 
until we were well away from the edge, and then 
I rolled over, and straddled him by a supreme 
effort. The low-hung moon distributed but a faint 
glow, but it was sufficient, lighting that up-turned 
face. 

“ Davenant ! Good God ! ” I cried. 

The answer panted out of his breathless body : 

Herapath ! ” 

I relaxed my grip. “ Man, you nearly had us both 
over. What a tragic mistake ! ” I exclaimed. 

He sat up, breathing heavily. ‘‘ I thought it was 
one of the mutineers,” he said, “ I followed. ” 

“ When did you see me.^^ ” I asked. 

“ I saw someone moving upstream, and I tracked 
you. You vanished up the precipice, and I went after 
you. I thought you had designs on the treasure.” 

“ Well, so I had,” I replied grimly. “ Lord, what 
luck ! What luck ! ” And then I remembered. “ The 
treasure ! ” I said. 


222 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Davenant did not reply for a moment, and when he 
spoke it was with some significance in his voice. 

“ Don’t you think that you made a mistake — let’s 
call it an error of judgment.^ ” 

“ How do you mean ? ” I asked. 

“ Oh, well, it’s of no consequence ; it was only an 
idea. But you see Halliday is the person immediately 
concerned in the treasure.” 

“ I’m not a formalist,” I answered bluntly. “ I 
wish to heaven you’d not been so free with your pop- 
gun.” My shoulder ached bitterly, and my arm was 
growing stiff. 

“ My dear sir, how could I tell.^ ” he asked. 

“ All right,” said I. “ I’ll try to forget it. Any- 
way, the mischief’s done, and so’s my error of judg- 
ment. The treasure’s there.” 

“ Are you sure.^ ” He spoke in a new voice. 

“ I was just digging about a heavy chest when your 
infernal pellet took me.” 

He moved toward the cavern quickly, and I fol- 
lowed. 

“ Have you matches.? ” I asked. 

“ No,” he said. 

“ Mine are gone, but you can feel. It’s pretty dark, 
as you know. I think I can guide you. Here, give me 
your arm.” 

We entered stooping, and I felt my way towards the 
chest, blundering somewhat in the dark. 

“ Here we are,” I said. “ Put your hands down 
there and tell what you make of it.” 


IN THE PULPIT 


223 


He bent, and I heard him fumbling in silence. 

“ It’s a chest right enough,” he said presently in a 
low voice. 

“ Well, we can do nothing more,” I remarked. 
« We’ve learnt the way up, and that the treasure’s 
here. That’s enough for one night. I wish it had 
stayed at that.” 

“ So do I,” he agreed. “ My ribs are nearly cracked. 
Halliday wiU go wild. He’ll dream dreams. Come 
along.” 

We passed out into the radiance of the starlight, and 
began to clamber over the rock behind, which gave 
access to the broken pathway. I went in front, and 
Davenant came about a dozen paces in the rear. 
What with our bruises and our breathlessness and my 
wound we were neither of us in the mood for conversa- 
tion, even if that had beeen advisable. Slowly we 
groped our way downward by the shelving gutter 
towards the steeper part of the wall that ascended 
from the gorge. As I entered this difficult descent 
at an angle of some eighty degrees I happened to cast 
a glance backward, and found Davenant’s figure had 
disappeared. I hailed him. 

“All right,” he said from the invisible. “I twisted 
my ankle slightly.” 

I plunged over the verge with all the more caution 
because of my disabled arm, and slowly, step by step, 
went down, as though I were descending by so many 
rungs of a ladder. I had got some distance down 
when there was a rumble above, and with a rush and a 


224 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


crash a big lump of rock flashed past me on the right. 
It shot by too closely to be pleasant, and I called out 
again. 

“ Hi ! lookout ! I’m just below ! ” 

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when a 
second rock, larger and more formidable than the other, 
came crashing down upon me. My eyes went up as 
the noise reached me, and I could see it flying towards 
me directly in my track. There was no time to spring 
aside. It had a fierce momentum, and it drove down 
upon me. I instinctively pressed my head into the 
wall. . . . 

It must have struck a peak just above me. The 
wind, and sand, and dust, and horror of it were in my 
face. But it cleared me with a leap that sent it twenty 
feet beyond, where it bounded and rebounded from 
the rock face and broke into shivers in the gorge below. 

“ Good Lord, man,” I called out angrily, “ this is 
too hot. You’re bent on doing for me to-night.” 

There was a moment’s silence, and then Davenant’s 
voice sailed down to me. 

“Good God! Did they touch you.^ It’s my ankle. 
I dislodged them in the dark.” 

I grumbled in an indistinct voice, for to say the 
truth, I was all in a sweat. 

“ I’ll wait for you, by your leave,” I called up. “ I’m 
not going to take any more risks.” 

He joined me soon, descending awkwardly, and 
limping, and we kept close together during the re- 
mainder of the journey down. We reached the bottom 


IN THE PULPIT 


225 


without mishap, and began to wade down the stream 
towards the camp. Weariness had set in with me, 
and Davenant did not seem disposed to talk. We 
successfully made the passage, and entered the zariba. 
The banners of the dawn were breaking out in the east ; 
and I was dog-tired. I sought my rude shelter, and 
was soon buried in slumber, oblivious of bruises and 
wound, and even of my strange discovery. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE CAPTURE 

I AWOKE when the sun was well up, and found the 
camp in a bustle about me. Davenant had acquainted 
Halliday with the events of the night, and the news 
went from lip to lip; our party was all agog. My first 
sensation was one of extreme pain, which slowly evoked 
in my mind a recollection of the night’s affray. I 
made my way to McLeod. 

“ I’m afraid I’m another subject for your scalpel,” 
I said in a feeble jest. 

‘‘ I’ve just heard,” he returned. “ Awkward busi- 
ness it might have been. Let’s have a look.” 

His examination showed no occasion for alarm. At 
cost of a few sharp pangs the bullet was extracted, and 
the application he made soothed the wound mightily. 

“ If they’ll leave us alone another day there won’t 
be much the matter with you,” he said cheerfully. 

Halliday was already bustling about, showing mani- 
fest signs of suppressed enthusiasm. He was all over 
the camp with questions and with orders. 

“ Say, my scheme’s in the cart now,” he declared 
cheerfully. “ Your’s is the copper-bottomed proposi- 
tion, I guess. We’ll soon run it through. What’s the 
matter with to-night.?^ Anyway, we’ll have a con- 
ference on this.” 


226 


THE CAPTURE 


He dashed olF to make a kindly inquiry about Marley, 
who was distinctly better, and showed it in a reluctance 
to remain quiet. 

“ We’re in sight, Mr. Marley ; we’re right on it,” he 
said, smiling ; “ and I’m going to let you boys in a bit 
more. It’s taken a heap more getting than I thought, 
and I reckon it’s worth it.” 

“ Good luck, old man,” growled Marley. ‘‘ Sorry 
I’ve not been able to do much myself.” 

At eight o’clock we were hailed from the wood, and 
looking over the stockade I saw M. Carvaulx approach- 
ing. He came up, gave a civil bow, and said : 

“ Can you give me any provisions, monsieur ” 

“We can manage it,” said Halliday. “ Come right 
along in. This is a great day with us. We’re on the 
treasure.” 

The Frenchman stared. “Have you found it?” 
he asked incredulously. 

“ Why, yes ; right away in its crevice, sir, and make 
no mistake,” chuckled Halliday. “ Come right along.” 

Carvaulx crossed the barrier with some difficulty, 
and tapped Halliday on the arm. 

“ Monsieur, if then this is accomplished, it will be 
possible to pursue the voyage to Baltimore? ” He 
hesitated, and looked anxious. 

Halliday also hesitated ; then he spoke in his 
measured voice. “ That’s all square. I contracted to 
take you and your niece to Baltimore, but I didn’t say 
how long it would take or where we went first. It was 
your own fault, monsieur. You were pressing.” 


228 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I do not mind,” said the Frenchman, with a gesture, 
“ if it is agreed.” 

“ I reckon Baltimore would maybe suit me as well as 
any place too,” said Halliday thoughtfully. M. Car- 
vaulx had, I observed, not yet inquired for his niece. 
He did not seem a very considerate uncle. She had 
risen later than the rest of the camp, and came to meet 
us now, greeting the old man affectionately. 

“ I’m glad you’re safe, my uncle,” she said in 
French. 

He wagged his finger at her almost playfully, for he 
was in a smiling humour. “ Ah, it was naughty of 
you,” he rephed in the same tongue, “ to run away like 
that into such dangers.” 

“ Herapath, find Mr. Davenant, will you,” said the 
bubbling HaUiday,’ “ and we’U fix up things. Lord, 
this is great ! ” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” inquired Miss Sylvester. 

McLeod told her the story, and, as I overheard, I’m 
bound to say he told it generously enough. She came 
to me a little afterwards, and inquired solicitously 
after my arm, which was sweet of her. Then we sat 
down to a cheerful breakfast. 

It was difficult to restrain Halliday from rash and 
immediate action. The cliff beckoned him; his eyes 
moved to it a dozen times an hour. It was the Mecca 
of his prayers. It was only by our united persuasion 
that an attempt upon the treasure was postponed till 
night. He yielded, however, to the demonstrated risk 
of an adventure in the daylight, particularly as during 


THE CAPTURE 


229 


the morning there were renewed signs of the enemy. 
One or two figures appeared in the clearing, and the 
smoke of their fires ascended to the blue heaven. 
Perhaps Clifford and Byrne were allaying their disap- 
pointment with cards, but I was certain Crashaw was 
alert and active; and I had my fears of that oily 
rascal. Heaven. Davenant was even for delaying the 
expedition for another day in order to make sure of 
success ; but he was overruled by unanimous voices. 
We were to set out after dark that evening. 

There were certain preparations to be made, which 
we at once undertook. The idea was to leave the camp 
in charge of the sentinels, and for the rest of the party 
to ascend by the bed of the stream and the gorge to 
the Pulpit. These were to be armed with lanterns 
and picks and ropes, with which simple equipment it 
was hoped that our aim could be accomplished. Under 
the light of the lanterns the picks could unearth the 
buried chests in the cavern, and then these would be 
hauled down the steep face of the rocks by means of 
the ropes. It would undoubtedly prove an arduous 
task, and might occupy us well into the morning ; but 
it was our one chance, and the prospect of ultimate 
success sweetened the thought of it. 

I say our one chance, because it was becoming evident 
that our food would not hold out. You will remember 
that when our expedition to the Duncannon failed so 
miserably we did not return to the cache, where the few 
remaining provisions were stored. As it fell out, my 
decision was fortunate, seeing that it enabled us to 


230 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


arrive in the nick of time. But when I surveyed the 
larder after breakfast, I confess that I wished we had 
brought back the stores in the cache. We had decided 
to hazard all that night, but I could not but ask myself 
what remained after that. Even if we were successful 
in recovering the treasure, was our position an enviable 
one.?* The mutineers were hostile, and would remain 
hostile, and the ship was in their hands. Our one base 
was cut off, and we were practically without food. 
The outlook was black at the best, unless we were able 
to make terms. 

Yet I do not think that these considerations weighed 
very much with me; for the fascination of the treasure 
overpowered all other feelings, and indeed all reason. 
We were feverishly anxious to be at work, and we 
awaited the evening with ill-concealed impatience. 
It was towards midday that a diversion occurred. I 
was hailed across the barricade from the thick wood 
by a voice which was unmistakable. 

“ That you, Herapath.^* Where’s the boss.?^ I’ve 
got a proposal to make.” 

I stared, and made out the figure of Clifford lurking 
in the bushes. I called to Davenant. 

‘‘ Here’s a bloody mutineer with a proposal,” I said 
loudly. Davenant came up slowly, and stood by my 
side, staring, also over the brushwood. 

“ Who is it.^^ ” he asked. 

“ Clifford,” I said, “ and he’s got a proposal. Sounds 
funny, doesn’t it? ” I went on cleaning the gun I held. 
Davenant dropped his eyes to it, and thence to the re- 


THE CAPTURE 


231 


volver on the grass and to a roughly shaped club I had 
manufactured. 

“ We might as well hear it,” he suggested. 

“ As you like. You’re in command,” I said lightly. 
“ I argue only with these things.” 

“ Well, I’d better hear him,” said Davenant doubt- 
fully, and glancing again at my weapons. “ You never 
know.” 

“ Here you are, Clifford,” I called. ‘‘ What do you 
want.?’ Speak up, and keep your distance, or I’ll drill 
holes in you.” 

“ Caesar’s ghost ! What a horrid man ! ” said Clif- 
ford jeeringly. “ Cap’n Davenant, I offer terms.” 

“ Terms be damned ! ” growled McLeod. 

“ Don’t use swear words,” urged Clifford sancti- 
moniously. “ Remember the days you spent at your 
mother’s knee, and the Sunday school marm that 
spanked you. Look here, Davenant, you’re in a hole, 
and we’re now engaged in the interesting occupation 
of starving you out. It’s only a matter of days before 
the last gaunt skeleton staggers on the dying embers of 
his fire and expires, as per sample. So let’s be sensible. 
I offer Halliday a third to quit the camp; and I’m 
dog-rotted if it ain’t generous.” 

Halliday, who had joined us, passed his long white 
hand nervously over his smooth lank hair. ‘‘ Good 
Lord ! ” he was muttering. “ Good sakes ! A third ! 
O my hat ! ” He seemed too greatly overcome to make 
any audible or official retort; and it was Davenant 
who spoke. 


^S2 


THE DEVIL*S PULPIT 


‘‘ It isn’t likely that Mr. Halliday will agree to ” 

“ Oh, stow that bilge ! ” said Marley’s deep voice 
from behind. And we turned, and found him sup- 
porting himself on a stick. “ Damn it, man, of 
course, we won’t. Don’t be mealy-mouthed with the 
reptile.” 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Marley, I am in charge,” began 
Davenant stiffly, “ and I must be allowed to manage 
things my own way.” 

“Right, old bird,” returned the even-tempered Mar- 
ley. “ I’m not on duty here. But give the bounder his 
deserts.” 

Davenant approached Halliday, who was gazing 
with fascinated amusement at the man who presumed to 
offer him a third of his own treasure. They spoke to- 
gether so that I could not hear them. 

“ If it will anyways make it easier for you, sort of 
soothe your conscience, I guess you’d better,” said Hal- 
liday at last. 

Davenant mounted the barricade. “ Where are you 
going? ” I asked. “ Don’t fool with that scum*” 

“ I’m only going to parley with him,” replied Dave- 
nant. 

“ It’s not worth it,” said Marley. 

“ Let him, if it eases his mind,” said Halliday, 
smiling. 

“ Herapath, I’m relying on your gun,” called back 
Davenant mellifluously as he leaped to earth the other 
side. I put the barrel over the stockade, and covered 
Clifford, who was not at all disconcerted. 


THE CAPTURE 


2S3 


All right ! Flag of truce,” he called out. “ I’m 
fly.” 

Davenant reached him, walking slowly, and stopped. 
For some minutes they talked together, and then 
Davenant turned abruptly away. 

“ It’s not the remotest use,” he called back from a 
little distance. ‘‘ But I’ll communicate what you say.” 
Under our interested eyes he came deliberately back, 
and climbed over. 

‘‘ He says they’re sure of starving us out,” he said 
to the group, “ and he’s willing to allow a third of the 
treasure, and a safe passage to any port desired, pro- 
viding no report of the voyage is made to authorities.” 

“ Gad, he’s a daisy,” tolled Marley’s bass. 

“ Oh, give up the farce,” I cried, and raised my 
voice and my gun. “ I fire, Clifford, after I count ten. 
One — two — three — f our ” 

“ Could you do with a bottle of fizz.? ” he shouted, 
and was gone; but back from the bush into which he 
had vanished streamed an echo of song : 

“ Don’t you leave the girl in the lurch, 

Take her away right off to church. . . 

He’s a daisy,” repeated Marley. “ God, what 
cheek ! ” 

“ He couldn’t have expected we should accept,” said 
Halliday incredulously. “ What does he take us for ? ” 

The offer was dismissed with ridicule by all, so deep 
were we under the influence of that treasure. Only 
Davenant seemed to be reasonable about it. 


234 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ We’re not out of the wood by finding that treas- 
ure, or even getting it,” he said to me later. 

I agreed. “ But, my dear man,” I said, ‘‘ when we 
come to straits like these it is sufficient to think ahead 
twenty minutes. As we’ve thought ahead tiU nightfall, 
we’re not doing so badly.” 

“ Do you think we have ? ” he asked curiously. 
“ Have you inspected the supplies ” 

“ Yes ; they won’t last over to-day ; but then we 
mayn’t,” I said bluntly. 

“ It would be a good thing to replenish them. 
There’s the cache,” he said. 

“ There’s the cache,” I agreed. He said nothing for 
a time; and then: 

“ I think we ought to make an effort to get the pro- 
visions up here,” he said significantly. “ What do 
you say to having a shot at it ? ” 

I shook my head. “ I daren’t risk it,” I said. 

‘‘Afraid of Clifford’s sentries.?” he asked coolly. 

I felt angry. “ A comment of that sort is better not 
made,” I said. “ You ought to know better. What 
I’m afraid of is splitting the party.” 

“ Oh, we’re in no danger just now,” he said. 
“ They’ve had their stomach full.” 

“ Anyhow, I’m not going,” I remarked. “ After 
to-night, it’s another matter. We stand or fall by what 
happens to-night.” 

I turned away. “ I thought I was in command 
here,” he lisped in his satiric way, “ but it seems I’m 
not.” 


THE CAPTURE 


2S5 


I was annoyed, although I knew I was technically in 
the wrong. “ My own impression is that Marley’s in 
charge again,” I threw back at him. 

“ When I receive an intimation from him to that ef- 
fect I’ll act on it,” he said; and I went away, leaving 
him the honours of the field. He was as a rule of so 
neutral a colour that it surprised me to find him assert 
himself so openly. Nor could I understand why he had 
so unwarrantably attributed to me a reluctance on the 
score of my own personal safety. I grew somewhat 
ashamed of the little squabble when I considered it, 
which made me all the more relieved that I was able to 
back him up a little later in what appeared to me an 
important matter. 

Halliday was busy drawing up a scheme for the dis- 
tribution of his unseen treasure, an elaborate scheme 
as far as I could make out, in which we were all allotted 
shares as a joint stock company. He was feverishly 
anxious to be just, and more than once sounded me as 
to what I considered I was entitled to. It seemed to 
me that that was a matter which might very well wait 
until we were, so to speak, out of the wood, and I told 
him so bluntly. 

“ Well,” he remarked amiably, “ I guess this is little 
Willie’s show. You go right ahead, and I’ll answer 
for the rest.” 

Accordingly Davenant and I outlined our plan by 
which the cliff was to be scaled and the booty recovered. 
Operations were to be started between ten and eleven. 
And in the late afternoon Davenant brought forward , 


236 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


his proposition — that M. Carvaulx and his niece should 
withdraw from the camp. 

“ It will be much safer for you,” he told the French- 
man. “ Because at any moment we may be exposed to 
danger here. And I think, in Miss Sylvester’s inter- 
ests, you should withdraw to some temporary place of 
safety.” 

I agreed, and added my arguments. 

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. “ I do not 
fear,” he said. “ But I do not wish to run unnecessary 
risks. I have nothing to do with your quarrels. If 

you would only compose your deeferences ” He 

shrugged again. It was immaterial to him that lives 
had been lost on either side. He stood aloof, anxious 
to get on with his journey, and impatient of our delay. 
He desired us to patch up our foolish quarrel and get 
to business. “ As for this treasure,” he pursued, “ I 
have had much experience. During my career as a 
banker I have had dozens, more than dozens, of people 
anxious for me to what you call finance their treasure 
expeditions.” 

‘‘ Well, monsieur,” said I, to cut the argument short. 
‘‘You will go.^ We will keep in touch with you in 
case of necessity.” 

He bowed. “ It is very wise,” he said. “ I will take 
my niece now. I have no dispute with these sailors 
yonder.” 

Miss Sylvester received our decision with a fallen 
face. “ I — don’t want to make a fuss, or to disobey 
orders,” she said hesitatingly, “ but I’d much sooner 


THE CAPTURE 


2S7 


stay here.” Davenant pointed out the danger, and she 
looked doubtfully at him and then at me. “ I’d much 
rather ” she began; and then suddenly and impul- 

sively : “ Do you think it would be better, Mr. Hera- 
path, for everyone’s sake.^^ ” she demanded, throwing 
the decision upon me. 

“ For everyone’s sake,” I repeated gravely. “ Your 
uncle has already a hiding-place, and you will have 
provisions, and we will communicate with you in the 
morning.” 

“ Very well. I will go,” she said quickly, and went 
straight away to make her preparations, like an 
obedient child. 

It was close on dusk when they left the camp on the 
eastern side, for M. Carvaulx had constructed in the 
woods a shelter for himself in that direction the pre- 
vious night ; and then, our fires lit, we settled down to 
await the hour of the great venture. But half-an-hour 
had scarcely gone by when a voice, crying far beyond 
the barricade, reached us. Halliday and I started up. 

“ What is it.? ” I called. ‘‘ Who’s there.? ” 

There was a shout, a challenge from the sentry 
staring at the black wood, and then voices rose together 
on the evening air. 

“ It’s the Frenchman,” called out Carter. 

“ What is it .? ” cried Halliday, hurrying to the 
spot, to which I too hastened. 

M. Carvaulx was on his knees, having tumbled over 
the barricade and caught his foot in the brushwood. 

“ What has happened .? ” I demanded. 


238 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


He was breathless, a little old shrimp of a man in a 
fright. 

“ The sailors ! ” he exclaimed. “ The mutineers — 
the mutineers ! ” 

“ For God’s sake tell us ! ” I said roughly in my sud- 
den access of alarm. 

“ They attacked us. I have no weapon,” he ex- 
claimed in staccato sentences. “ They were dnmk. 
They knock me down. Ariane is taken. Ah, it is in- 
famous.” 

“ Good Lord ! ” cried Davenant, and stared at me. 
“ They have the girl, and they are drunk.” 

“And she threw herself on me, and I advised her to 
go,” I said grimly. 

I looked towards the black wood. “ I must go, 
Davenant,” I said. “ Will you have someone with you.^ ” 
he asked, without contesting this. 

“No, you can’t spare anyone; besides, I shall suf- 
fice. Good Lord, how I shall suffice when I have them 

in my hands ! I’ll tear ” I found myself tearing 

the stick I held in my hand unconsciously. I think 
somehow I “ saw red ” at that moment. I could in my 
mind’s eye see Clifford, that gross reptile, with his 
hands 

I leapt on the brushwood. “ I’ll be back in time,” I 
called out as I jumped down. 

There was no time to waste. I knew the direction 
of the Frenchman’s shelter, and I made for it through 
the dark wood. I do not think I had any definite plan 
in my head, but I was sure I should succeed. And 


THE CAPTURE 


239 


when I was nearly arrived at the place, my eyes, 
sharpened by passion, in the obscurity of the wood 
noted the breakage of some undergrowth, as though 
by the passage of bodies. I paused, sensed the trail 
rapidly, and was off upon it westward. The raiders 
had turned for their camp. 

I followed this perceptible track for a quarter of an 
hour through the trees and shrubs, and then came out 
on the stream. Opposite I thought I could detect the 
mark of feet where the party had landed, and I 
crossed. Yes, the footmarks were manifest. I picked 
up the scent, and sped onward. I felt in my pocket 
where my loaded revolver lay, and with my right hand 
I gripped the heavy club I carried. 

And by now real night had fallen, as it falls abruptly 
in those latitudes, and I had to pick my path with care. 
No longer was I able to follow the trail, but as I had 
made up my mind long since that the mutineers’ camp 
was its destination this did not trouble me. I had an 
excellent sense of topography, and I knew I was steer- 
ing northwest from the stream, which should bring me 
into the neighbourhood of the camp. I judged that I 
should be close on it now, and so I walked warily. The 
sound of my feet was the only sound audible, for a 
great stillness appeared to have fallen. Faintly in my 
ears drummed the sea a mile or more away. The trees 
were thick together, and the brushwood was heavy. A 
brooding heat hung in the wood, and the sweat gath- 
ered on my forehead. I was possessed of one idea only, 
and it maddened me. I now began to realise something 


240 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


of what it all meant. I had not understood, perhaps 
had not time to understand, my own feelings. When 
first I had seen Miss Sylvester she had seemed to me 
but a coquettish girl of a type common to the sex, if 
singled out by special beauty and a strange grace. 
Later I had come to appreciate the simplicity and in- 
nocence of her girlish nature. And then Now I 

knew indeed, and I ground my teeth at the vision in my 
brain of that slender form in the hands of those gross 
sailors, in the power of that black scoundrel Clif- 
ford — 

I emerged from a covert of bushes slowly, my body 
taut, my spirit stiffening. The smell of wood fires was 
in my nostrils. . . . But then a flash was in my eye. 
The bullet arrived coincidently with the flash of the 
hammer; but I had by instinct and chance thrown out 
my club, and it struck that and glanced off. I made 
two steps forward, and smote. 

Someone went down with a smothered ejaculation, 
but at the same time I was seized from behind. I 
struggled fiercely; but it seemed as though a score of 
hands held me, and gradually I ceased. I was taken, 
caught in the web, and lay as still, as exhausted, and 
as helpless as a fly. 

“Snakes! He’s hot stuff!” said Clifford breath- 
lessly. “ But we’ve done him all the same.” 

“ Good old Jacko ! ” cried Byrne cheerfully. 


CHAPTER XVI 


ARIADNE 

I COULD not make out the separate figures of my cap- 
tors, who were nothing but a moving knot in the gloom, 
and I held my tongue, being more anxious to get my 
breath than to enter into altercations with the muti- 
neers. I had walked into a trap. Of that I was cer- 
tain. Why else was this strong party — ^five at least, I 
reckoned — waiting in ambush.? 

“ Let us get a move on. We’ll be too late for the 
job at this rate,” said Clifford in a business-like way, 
which seemed unhke him. 

My arms were tied behind me, and a knee was jerked 
into the small of my back, so that I suddenly had the 
alternatives of going forward or over. I chose the 
former, and in comparative silence we penetrated the 
fastnesses of the forest. Five minutes later we had 
reached the mutineers’ camp. In the shelter of the 
bushes and scrub that grew low under the larger trees 
some huts had been constructed, and I was hurried into 
one of these, before which a fire was blazing merrily. 
Stakes were driven into the earth in four separate 
places, and to these I was pegged out by hands and 
ankles, so that I was unable to do more than move my 
body an inch or so any way. This operation was su- 
perintended by Crashaw, who eyed me the while with the 
241 


242 the DEVIL’S PULPIT 

cold eye of a butcher contemplating his victim. In the 
distance I heard Clifford and Byrne talking. 

‘‘How goes the enemy Well, that makes it an 
hour, doesn’t it.?^ We must be on time.” 

“ That back way,” said Byrne’s voice, “ was a great 
find.” 

“ Immense,” agreed the other. “ Barney, we’ll have 
a tot to celebrate this. Where did we put that bottle 
of 0-be-joyful.^ 

There came to me the noise of someone groping 
among the grasses, for the camp was wonderfully si- 
lent. I marvelled. The mutineers were on the eve of 
some venture, just as we were. What could that be but 
an attack on the zariba? And how was it that they 
knew about the back way to the Pulpit? I was puz- 
zled even while I chafed at my impotence. I heard 
someone approach me. 

“ How’s the brigadier? ” inquired Clifford cheerily# 
“ Glad that wasn’t me you hit. I hoped it was Cra- 
shaw. He’s getting a bit lofty, and wants his hair 
combed.” He sat down near me, and bit off the end of 
a cigar. “ You owe me one, Herapath,” he resumed. 
“ Don’t be sulky. They wanted something with boiling 
oil in it, but I fell on my knees and begged your life. 
‘ No,’ says I ; ‘ he’s a philosopher as well as a bruiser. 
Let him philosophise ; give him time to meditate on 
the vanity of human wishes. Slow rises worth by pov- 
erty depressed,’ says I. ‘ Peg him out for a period of 
prayer and recreation. He hasn’t had a holiday for 
a long time, and has earned one, he has.’ ” 


ARIADNE 24)3 

He laughed, and held the match he had struck so that 
he could see my face. 

“ ® You are my honey — honeysuckle. I am your 
bee,’ ” he sang briskly. “ You shouldn’t orter have 
done it, Herapath, at your time of life. I put it to you 
anxiously : was the gal worth it ? ” 

“ She is here ? ” I asked quickly, breaking silence 
for the first time. He lighted his cigar, so that the 
match flamed red on his brick-red face. 

“ We’ve fixed up the little angel for a spell like you,” 
he said indifferently. “ Unfortunately, I can’t afford 
to pay her the attentions proper to her rank and 
beauty ; but a time will come, and once aboard the lug- 
ger ” 

He made a gesture which drove me to madness. I 
strained at my ropes, and they bit deep into me. 

“Comfortable.?” he asked mercilessly. “Both do- 
ing well.? That’s all right. Nothing would have 
pleased me more than to have had a nice little chat 
with you, Mr. Herapath, but, unfortunately, I haven’t 
time. I’ve an appointment. But I’ll drop in some day 
soon, and we’ll fix it up.” 

“ Look here, man,” I said, restraining myself, “ do 
you mean me to believe that Miss Sylvester is roped 
down in the same way as I am .? ” 

“ Allee same you,” he nodded. “ You see, we’re off 
on an important engagement, old cock, and we can’t 
afford to leave our guests exposed to risks. So we’ve 
put cruel gyves about her little tootsies, and ” 

I strained fiercely. “ Steady on ! ” he urged. 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


2U 

“ Somehow I thought we should fetch you by taking the 
lady. Neat scheme, wasn’t it.?^ Mine.” 

The trap was manifest enough now, and yet how 
could I have avoided it in the circumstances.'^ I 
growled an oath under my breath. 

“ Who’s that swearing.? ” said the insufferable 
Clifford sternly. “ I won’t have it in this camp.” 
Byrne joined him now in the firelight, and the two 
contemplated me. 

“ It’s a mighty fine compliment to you, Herapath,” 
said the new-comer. “ You can comfort yourself with 
that. We wouldn’t have taken the trouble for any of 
the others. We laid for you.” 

“ Smoke that all night,” said Clifford serenely. “ It 
will be as soothing as a fragrant Havana. Inciden- 
tally, Barney, this weed is no great shakes.” 

“Well, whose fault is it.?” asked the Irishman. 
“ You looked after the food and the liquor and 
all.” 

“ Talking of food and liquor,” said Clifford, address- 
ing me, “ we expected you to make a raid on the cove 
this afternoon. But you hadn’t the pluck, V.C.” 

It crossed my mind as I lay there helpless and hope- 
less that they seemed very well informed of our inten- 
tions. Davenant had urged me to make this very 
expedition. Clifford rose. 

“ We’ve got half-an-hour yet,” he remarked as he 
strolled off, and I was left to the misery of my own 
reflections. 

The garrison of our camp was not anticipating an 


ARIADNE 


245 


assault, and it was now the weaker by my absence. 
Moreover, Miss Sylvester lay close by, probably in the 
neighbouring hut, and in the shameful bondage which 
held me. These were two reasons why I should rack 
my brains and my muscles in an attempt to get free. 
But I saw no way, and in sheer despair I desisted, my 
mind a futile pulp of vague thought, my body full of 
aches and pains. Presently the voices of the mutineers 
beyond the fire reached me. 

“ Don’t swipe any more, Jacko. We mustn’t keep 
Davenant waiting.” 

Keep Davenant waiting! The words burned in my 
head. 

“ Oh, let him fry cheese,” said Clifford. “ I’m 
running this show. He’s not got nerve enough.” 

I cannot tell you my sensations as these words fell 
on my ears. It was as if a whole house had tumbled in 
ruins on me, as if the world had by a dreadful accident 
suddenly turned topsy-turvy. And then, as my mind 
under the impulse of its amazement played rapidly on 
the situation, a flood of light swept quickly over the 
past, illuminating all the dark places. I understood. 
Davenant was a traitor. 

Little things, big things, things of no import, which 
have no place in this narrative ; things of great moment,, 
which had been grievously misinterpreted — aU became 
invested with new significance now. Clifford had been 
the open mutineer; Davenant was the silent plotter. 
From the very first I seemed now to trace Davenant’s 
guilt. It was he who had apparently made the mistake 


246 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


about the island ; it was he who had endeavoured, 
against my desire, to steam away, and thus maroon 
Halliday and Wade and Marley, whose presence was 
dangerous to the plot. It was he, once more, who had 
striven with me on the ledge and tried to throw me 
over the precipice. There came back to my memory 
those tumbling rocks which so nearly committed me to 
death. It was he who had wished to send me to the 
cove, where, no doubt, a posse had been awaiting me. 
It was he Ah, it was at his instance the French- 

man and Miss Sylvester had been despatched out of 
the camp to safe quarters. Safe quarters ! I could 
recall the picture of Davenant and Clifford conferring 
outside the camp, while we, deluded fools, looked on in 
placid ignorance of what they were plotting. 

And now Davenant had communicated to them our 
intentions, and they were to assault the camp by ar- 
rangement with him. And I not there! There was 
bitter gall in the thought. We had all played the fool, 
but most of aU I, who was doubly in their toils. Miss 
Sylvester had been the bait for me. I came out of 
this fierce mood of despair to hear the voices round the 
fire louder. 

“ I’ll play you for the girl, Jacko.” 

Clifford had the cards. ‘‘ I’ll cut, toss, or fight you 
for her, Barney, my boy,” said the ruffian. “ She’s a 
knock-out. ‘ She’s a daisy, she’s a ducky, she’s a lamb.’ 
Look here, Barney, let’s draw for the Queen of Hearts 
— that’s her — come along. We’ve got ten minutes. 
Pass the bottle round, my boys. 


ARIADNE 


247 

‘ Bacchus only drinks like me 
When Ariadne’s coy.’ 

But when the time comes I’ll forswear sack. Ace of 
hearts, by thunder ! ” 

It was diabolical to have to lie there and listen to 
these vile exchanges. There was something like a 
menace in the conversation, which made my blood sour, 
but I was as helpless as a log. 

“ That’s warm, J acko,” said Byrne. “ Knave ! ” 

The drawing went on, punctuated with coarse jokes, 
oaths, and innuendoes, until at last Clifford gave vent 
to a laugh. 

“ Great Caesar ! She wasn’t in the pack. Now, how 
the devil did that happen ? ” 

“ Well, it was my draw, Jacko,” said the Irishman, 
“ and so I claim the stakes.” 

“ See you canned first,” exclaimed Clifford. “ Let’s 
try again. Halloa! Is it time, Crashaw.?^ ” 

A third voice joined the others, and I heard no more 
for a time, since their tones dropped lower. But 
presently Clifford called out: 

“ All right. Settle that. I’ll have a look at Her- 
cules.” He came over to me, entering the open side 
of the hut. 

“ Samson, I’ve come to say ta-ta,” he said, “ and I’ve 
got a bit of parting advice for you. Ware woman as 
you ware wine. I daresay Delilah was a damned hand- 
some jade, but she wasn’t worth it; and here’s a word 
in your ear.” He stooped and whispered, and in my 
black rage I could have torn him in pieces. He drew 


^48 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


back as I struggled. “ Nebuchadnezzar ! Here’s a 
regular Gaza,” he said breezily. “ Tatcho, my elegant 
warrior; which sounds like a sneeze, but being inter- 
preted is ‘ Keep your hair on.’ So long ! ” 

His retiring steps lessened in my ears as I slowly 
drilled myself to a more level temper. It was difficult ; 
but I grew master of myself, knowing that I could do 
nothing by sheer blind fury. The camp sank into deep 
silence, and only the distant noise of the breaking sea 
reached me. I set myself to earnest and desperate 
thought. I reviewed the past with all its misappre- 
hensions and blunders; I faced the future with all its 
doubts and darkness. It seemed months since Wade 
and I had started with such light hearts from South- 
ampton that misty evening; and Wade was in his 
island grave, and here was I stretched out like a crim- 
inal of old to die on the rack of starvation, or maybe 
by a more merciful pistol shot. I guessed that they 
had no use for me, and I wondered why they had so 
far spared my hfe. I have since come to the conclusion 
that my knowledge of engineering had some influence 
with these scoundrels. I was to be reserved for even- 
tual disposal ; but in the meantime there was the 
Duncannon to work, and not one of the mutineers had 
any knowledge of machinery. 

At any rate, I had been spared so far, but it was as 
bitter as death to lie there hour after hour, and watch 
the stars go past, and the heavens cloud and clear, and 
the pines rustle in the sea winds, and the flame leap 
on the rough rafters of the hut. I fought long and 


ARIADNE 


249 


intermittently, raising first one shoulder and then the 
other a little way off the ground. But all my efforts 
were in vain. My bonds and the deeply driven stakes 
held. I remained a prisoner, ignominiously secure to 
the earth. My thoughts, moving in this sickness of the 
mind, reverted to Davenant, the sleek traitor, the 
doubly damned, and I felt that if it were possible I 
would gladly have pulled over the pillars of Gaza, to 
which Clifford had alluded, on his treacherous head, 
even were I involved in the ruin myself. And then, 
again, Miss Sylvester — ^what was to be her fate.^^ 

In those watches of that terrible night I realised my 
heart, and I knew that I loved her. Yet I, who would 
have laid down my life at her feet, was unable to put 
one finger to her assistance. . . . 

Orion lay far in the west. I knew the dawn was 
near . . . and suddenly I heard a cry, a cry of fear, 
of mingled terror and supplication; and it was the cry 
of a woman. There was but one woman on that island 
of despair. I lifted my head, and listened, every pulse 
in my body seeming to have stopped. The cry was 
raised again, and it appeared to sound near me. Was 
it Ariadne crying for help, and crying in vain? A 
madness seized me, greater than I had ever before ex- 
perienced. I put forth all my strength; the muscles 
in my arms stiffened into lumps of iron; the blood 
poured into my face and brain. And still I wrenched 
. . . and all of a sudden the stake on my right 
gave. 

With a repetition of the effort it came slowly out of 


250 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


the earth in which it had been buried. My arm was 
free. 

With tremulous fingers I sought my pocket, and 
found there the knife, which in their certainty of my 
secure fastening, they had not troubled to remove. 
With it I shore through the ropes that bound my left 
arm, and then repeated the operation on the ropes that 
held my feet. I cut away the wreckage, and rose to 
my feet, a man once more, a man with a giant’s 
strength because of the thoughts that moved like flame 
with him. I caught up the stake, a heavy billet of 
wood, damp from the earth, and I stalked out into the 
light of the fire. 

The cry had come from my right, and I directed my 
steps thither, to a hut like my own, such as I had al- 
ready noticed. I reached the entrance, on which the 
light of the great fire flickered weakly, and in the 
flashes I made out the figure of a woman on the ground, 
and that of a man who stood over her. A low cry went 
to my heart. I stepped in, and raised my billet. The 
next moment the sound of my feet had come to his ears, 
and he turned, and a revolver belched in my face. The 
bullet whistled past my neck, and then my billet fell. 
It fell on his right arm, and broke it. like a cracked 
stick above the elbow. He shrieked with the pain, and 
made a rush for the back of the hut. Between the 
flashing and dropping of the firelight I had ghmpses 
of him. He dashed from wall to wall, his arm hanging 
helpless, his hand still nervelessly grasping the revolver. 
He ran about, squealing like a rat, and he trampled on 


ARIADNE 


251 


the girl as he ran. I shouted, and, stimulated possibly 
by his panic, he suddenly put out his left hand, and 
seized the weapon from the dead right hand. It was 
levelled, and he was firing as I raised my billet again; 
and he dodged 

He pitched sideways with no cry, only with a little 
dropping bump into the darkness of an unlit corner of 
the hut. My stake had taken him behind the ear, and 
he had died instantaneously. There lay the man with 
the ugly dead face that we had commented on early in 
the voyage, and the face that pressed the cold earth 
in that rough shelter was really a dead face now. For 
it was Heaven, the steward, who had been a confederate 
of the mutineers from the outset. 

Ariadne Sylvester was whimpering at my knee. 

“ Oh, save me 1 Where is that man? He frightened 
me. Oh, he was terrible ! I knew you would come. I 
knew — where is that man? ” 

“ He will frighten you no more — never any more,” 
I said, comforting her. 

“ Is he dead? Have you killed him? ” she asked in 
an awestruck voice. She was still trembling, clinging to 
me. “ I’m glad he’s dead,” she breathed ; and then, her 
face panting up to mine, she collapsed on my breast. 

I let her come to of her own accord, having carried 
her away from that hut into the shelter of the wood. 
She emerged from her swoon with a long sigh, and the 
first thing she saw was my face above hers, watching it 
with anxiety. The stars were paling before the shafts 
of the new dawn, and her face was dimly luminous. 


252 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


An expression which was not a smile, but mere content, 
passed over it. 

“ I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered. 

I pressed the arm which was supporting her closer. 

‘‘ Do you remember when we walked this way once? ” 
she asked after a pause, and was silent, as if she puzzled 
to herself. 

“ Don’t bother to talk,” I told her soothingly. 

‘‘No, no. I must,” she said almost fretfully. “I 
wanted to tell you. I remember walking,” she said 
slowly, “ and it was night ; and those men were about ; 

and you — yes, you struck one as you struck ” She 

shuddered, and ceased. “ Why do you hold me ? ” she 
asked. 

“ You fainted,” I said. “ But you’re better now.” 

“ Is that all ? ” she asked in the slow voice she had 
been employing. “ Is that all? ” 

I drew her nearer. I thought she wandered, and I was 
afraid. Had the strain been too much for her brain? 

“ Why do you press me like that ? ” she asked again, 
slowly. 

“ Because — oh, because I love you,” I cried, forget- 
ful of all else, save that I did love her and that she was 
in my arms. She put out hers towards me. 

“ That’s what I wanted to say,” she whispered, pull- 
ing my face down to hers. “ It was on that night it 
happened. I loved you then. It was then. I can see 
it now. For I felt — I feel it more now; and that’s how 
I know it. Oh, I’m glad you love me.” 

I kissed her lips softly, gently, and she sighed her 


ARIADNE 


253 


soul towards me. Whatever might be the fate of that 
hapless expedition, I, at the least, was indebted to it 
for more than life. 

I laid her down on her ferny bed, and stood up, to 
regain the mastery of myself. About me spread the 
wonder of the dawn, which grew sensibly into morning. 
The greyness was slipping from a sky that was flushed 
with gold and rose towards the orient, and the sea 
alone was drab, darkly drab from the opacity of its 
depth. The firs and the palms that surrounded me 
like upstanding giants whistled in the breeze that blew 
off the water. And out of the innumerable crepitations 
of the twilight in the undergrowth sprang the strident 
but triumphant voice of a parrakeet. I turned my 
eyes again seaward, and absorbed the rare fine air in 
what was no less than an ecstasy of mind and emotion. 
I was like one taken out of the rough circumstances of 
this rude world and rapt to heaven. I was Nympho- 
lept, and, behold, at my feet, recumbent, silent, and 
with wet lashes over deep and tired eyes, was Ariadne 
of the Island, yet no desolate Ariadne derelict and tear- 
stained, but one blooming, even through her terrors, 
into the flower of full life and happiness. I looked 
down on her, and she stirred and looked up at me. 

“ You must rest, sweetheart,” said I. 

“ I will go with you,” she whispered. 

No,” said I. “ I have stern work. You have seen 
enough, too much. You must rest.” 

‘‘What will you do.?” she asked anxiously. “You 
won’t ” 


254 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I must visit our camp and see what has happened. 
I fear the worst. I have discovered many things 
during this terrible night, and I am afraid. Ah^ but I 
have discovered a wonderful thing too! ” I cried, stoop- 
ing to her, and gathering her in my arms. I kissed her 
damp eyes, and she crept closer. 

I stood up, and faced the dawn, which came with 
growing beauty. Away on the broad and neutral 
plain of the sea was a dark smudge visible against the 
gradual light of the east. I stooped again, picked up 
Ariadne in my arms, and carried her deeper into the 
recesses of the opening in which we had sought refuge. 
It was hke a small gravel quarry, in the side of the 
slope on which we were, and was grown plentifully with 
bushes. 

“ You are safe here, sweet,” I told her. “ I will 
return very shortly.” 

“ But you will not — ^you will take care,” she pleaded, 
clinging to me. 

I felt in my coat pocket for the knife, and gave it to 
her. As I did so something tumbled out of the pocket 
to the ground. But I was in too great a flutter to give 
heed to this. 

“ I wiU take care, child,” I said. “ And see, I leave 
you my knife. No one will seek you here, but this will 
give you a greater sense of security.” 

I comforted her fears, kissed her, disengaged myself 
from her arms, and fled. 

From the quarry-hke refuge I made straight for the 
mutineers’ camp. I was without weapons of any kind, 


ARIADNE 


S55 


and I remembered the revolver of the wretched Heaven. 
The light of the morning was full on the hillside when 
I reached it, and the fire was dying into its embers, as 
if it had been a wild thing that feared the day and 
crept to earth. There was no sign of life anywhere; 
but the light had found its way into the recesses of the 
hut, and a shaft played weakly on the dead man’s face 
with its glassy eyes. With a shudder I withdrew the 
revolver from his stiff fingers, and secured the cart- 
ridges also. Then, thus armed for emergencies, I set 
out for the stream. 

When I had crossed it I approached our old camp 
with caution, for I did not know what might have hap- 
pened. But I saw nothing to alarm me, and so noise- 
lessly reached the barricade. No one was visible, and 
the fires here also were failing. I climbed the brush- 
wood, revolver in hand, but was challenged by none. 
It was as the camp of the dead. Presently, I noticed 
the body of a man lying in an awkward heap, with his 
face to the sky. I recognised him as one of the muti- 
neers. So our party had made a gallant fight of it. I 
could not doubt what had happened. Overpowered and 
surprised by the superior numbers of their opponents, 
Halliday and McLeod and Marley had fallen victims to 
the treachery of Davenant and the ferocity of the muti- 
neers. I glanced up at the Pulpit, and my eyes de- 
tected some figures crawling on the cliff like flies. The 
treasure was in their hands. Sick at heart, I entered 
the central hut, which Halliday had occupied, and as 
I did so a groan reached me. 


^56 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


I looked carefully about me, and discovered Halliday 
securely fastened, hand and foot. I had only just time 
to release him when in the farther corner I saw another 
figure. On examination this proved to be McLeod, 
similarly bound. I cut his bonds also, and presently 
he had recovered enough to sit up, chafe himself, and 
tell his story. Poor Halliday was only half-conscious 
owing to a severe blow on the head. The mutineers, 
according to McLeod, had made the assault at ten 
o’clock, just as the start was being made on the expedi- 
tion. It came with dramatic unexpectedness, and the 
issue was never in doubt from the first. They had at- 
tacked from the stream, and seemed to be aware of our 
dispositions. McLeod seemed puzzled by this, but it 
was no source of wonder to me with my newly acquired 
knowledge of Davenant. 

“ We made a struggle for it,” said McLeod sadly. 
“ But it was a one-sided business. Halliday went down 
at once, and Collins and one of the stokers were shot. 
I didn’t see Marley.” 

“ I must look,” I said, rising, for my own tale could 
wait. “ Just give a glance at Halliday, while I search 
the camp.” 

I went out, and succeeded in discovering Marley also 
bound, and swearing like a trooper. Near by was 
Collins, with a bullet in his thigh, and a resigned ex- 
pression on his face. Carter had been clubbed with a 
gun, and was secured like the others. There was no 
sign of the Frenchman. Thus our party was reduced 
to McLeod, Carter, and myself, able-bodied members, 


ARIADNE 


257 


if we omit Marley, who was still something of an 
invalid, Halliday, and Collins, and the remaining hand, 
more or less hors de combat — in all seven. I made out 
that the mutineers must, at least, count ten ashore, to 
say nothing of those who had seized the ship. It was 
impossible for us to continue the unequal struggle; 
there was nothing before us but capitulation. These 
thoughts were moodily in my head while we were mus- 
tering our little company of wounded and broken men. 
Luckily for himself, Halliday had not realised his posi- 
tion, and was only half alive. 

“ It’s all up,” said McLeod bitterly. 

“ I’d like to have just one more go at the blighters,” 
said sick Marley in his growling voice. 

I was looking upward at the Pulpit, where the crawl- 
ing flies were visible at work. 

“ No,” said I. “ You’re off duty, and I command 
here. We’re going.” 

A shrill cry, a squeal as of a bird that flew in the 
heaven overhead, came down to us. “ What’s that ? ” 
asked McLeod. 

“ Good God ! ” exclaimed Marley. “ It’s a man ! 
It’s ” 

We held our breath; a fly had been detached 
from the height, and was falling. ... It struck 
the rocks below the Pulpit, just where Wade had 
fallen. 

Marley ’s face was livid, and McLeod’s natural red 
colour went. Overhead the ruffians were fighting, 
maybe in their greed of gold. 


258 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Yes, I guess we’ll go,” said Marley, and turned 
away. 

We got the remnant of the camp together, and 
started at once, going down by the stream, McLeod 
supporting Halliday, Collins tottering weakly, and 
Carter aiding the other wounded man. 

“ I guess they’ve done for that poor devil Davenant,” 
remarked Marley pensively. 

“Not a bit of it,” said I. “ That’s my story, which 
you haven’t heard; and it’s another reason why we 
should reckon it’s all up. Davenant’s one of them. It 
was his treachery that caused the attack last night.” 

Amazement and incredulity followed on this state- 
ment, but I educed my arguments and my evidence, and 
they were silent. They did not even seem to have 
spirit left to stigmatise properly so base and cowardly 
and traitorous a scoundrel. 

“ The Frenchman’s gone,” said Marley feebly. “ Is 
he in it too.? ” 

“ No ; I can’t believe that,” I said. “ I should say 
he had run away. He’s not a combatant, and he would 
not think he was called upon to fight for us.” 

We were bound for the creek, where, it will be remem- 
bered, we had concealed our boat, and by the time our 
explanations had been exchanged we had almost 
reached it. A heavy gloom rested upon us. We were 
defeated, and had but a hopeless outlook. I was 
roughly projecting a plan in my mind, but that was by 
no means a solution of our difficulties. We had lost the 
treasure ; we were a broken party, with several wounded 


ARIADNE 


259 


to embarrass us ; and we had lost our line of retreat. 
It remained only that we should find our way back to 
the cove in which we had landed at the outset, where we 
should, at least, be supplied with stores for the time 
being. After that — ^well, it would serve no good pur- 
pose to look too far ahead in that hour of despair. 

We emerged from the undergrowth and came out 
upon the sandy margin of the little creek. As we did 
so, a cry of amazement issued from Marley. I followed 
his gaze ; and there in the offing, her twin black funnels 
throwing clouds astern, was a big steamer. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE SIX PALMS 

We stood staring for some minutes in silence, for the 
surprise had been complete; and now I recalled that 
smudge of darkness I had seen earlier upon a neutral 
purple water. She must have been making a smart 
passage to have come up so soon. I judged she was 
distant about four miles, but she was drawing rapidly 
nearer. The appearance of the steamer opened up new 
avenues of thought, and our hearts lifted. 

“ God’s providence ! By George, it is ! ” exclaimed 
Marley. McLeod, looking out under the hollow of his 
palms, said with characteristic caution: 

“ She won’t be coming here; she’ll be going about, 
and will pass four miles off at least.” 

“ We must signal at once,” I said, and began to go 
about the creek for materials for a fire. 

“ The boat ! ” exclaimed Marley, “ that’s our 
ticket. They’ll see a boat if we put up a signal 
from it.” 

He scurried off to its hiding-place under Carter’s 
guidance, while I quickly made calculations. It would 
take me fifteen minutes at least to reach the place in 
which I had left Ariadne, so that more than half-an- 
hour would necessarily elapse before the boat could 
start. I told McLeod exactly how things stood, and 
260 


THE SIX PALMS 


261 


he agreed that it would be well to light a bonfire as an 
alternative signal to the steamer, even at the risk of 
attracting the attention of the mutineers. 

“ Get all aboard and ready to start directly I get 
back,” I said as I hurried away. 

I ascended the stream by the left bank as speedily 
as I could, and when I paused to take breath it was 
upon a little elevation. The sweat was running down 
my face, for the sun, young as it was, streamed down 
roughly in those latitudes. I turned to get the sea 
wind, and saw the strange steamer still at her original 
distance from the island, and I wondered if she were 
going to anchor. Halliday’s story of the chart, 
and the old man and his nephew in New Zealand, 
returned to my memory. Was it possible, I a^ked 
myself, that here was a second expedition after the 
treasure.? 

Suddenly I heard the sound of angry voices raised 
in shouting, which came from the hills, and I guessed 
that the mutineers were quarrelling. I resumed my 
way with increased speed, resolved that nothing should 
come between me and my mission. Soon I recognised 
a palm-tree, and presently I was in the recess among 
the bushes where my love awaited me. She sprang to 
me joyously. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come safely,” she cried. 
“ I was afraid ” 

“Hush!” said I softly, holding her to me; for at 
that moment there was in my ears a noise. 

It grew louder into a shouting; and then I heard the 


262 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


sound of feet heavily pounding on the earth, and the 
cracking of branches, as if a body was pushing 
through the undergrowth in haste. 

We listened in silence, for the noise approached us. 
“ We are safe,” I whispered. She squeezed my arm, 
as if to reassure me that she was not afraid. 

The noise now came nearer, and I heard an oath. 
Someone was blundering down upon us. I drew my 
revolver and waited. There were more sounds from 
above, and then a voice: 

“ Damnation, and all for a cellar of bally empties ! ” 

I knew that voice. It was Clifford’s. What did it 
signify? 

“ Here, give me a shove, will you? ” it proceeded. 

My foot’s caught.” And there was muttering, and 
a crack, and another voice, the namby-pamby voice of 
Davenant, the traitor. 

“ It may be bad, but it will be worse if we don’t take 
care. If they attract the attention of that vessel we’re 
done. Come along, sharp.” 

“ How the hell did they get loose ? ” grumbled Clif- 
ford, and the voices and the footsteps blundered away 
into the distance. 

I was aware by now that my task was not so easy as 
it had promised to be. What exactly had happened 
was by no means clear, but I made a guess at it. The 
mutineers had been disappointed in the treasure; pos- 
sibly it had not come up to their expectations ; and now 
they were frightened by the strange vessel. Our party 
had got free, and being in possession of a boat, might 


THE SIX PALMS 


^63 


succeed in reaching the steamer. In that case the 
plight of the gang was desperate, and Davenant knew 
it. I could picture them all in a wild and frantic rush 
to the sea. What was their object.? They had their 
boat somewhere. They could either gain the shelter 
of the Duncannoriy and run for it, which was a counsel 
of despair, or they could try to prevent our party from 
communicating with the stranger. That was their 
more likely course, and explained this precipitate race 
for the sea. It also gave me pause. How was I to 
conduct Ariadne to the boat in safety with those turbu- 
lent and unscrupulous ruffians between.? 

I was sorely perplexed, but there was no time to 
pause. I must act at once; and so we began to 
hasten in the wake of the mutineers towards the creek, 
keeping a wary watch for the enemy. 

We penetrated the undergrowth for ten minutes in 
silence, and at last came out on a rise which was bare 
of vegetation. The sun dazzled the eyes, and leapt in 
sparkling flashes on the sea below. The steamer in 
the offing caught my sight, and away to the left the 
Duncannon at anchor. A great clamour came back to 
us, for we were now not more than a quarter of a mile 
from the creek. And as I looked I was astonished to 
see a boat put out from beneath the fringe of under- 
wood that bounded my vision and creep upon the face 
of the sea. The shouting increased in volume into a 
confused pandemonium of sound. 

“ What is it.? ” asked Ariadne, clutching me. 

“ It is our boat,” said I, straining my eyes. ‘‘ I can 


^64 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


recognise Marlej, and that must be Halliday in the 
bows. They’ve put out to avoid be.ing attacked.” 

But still I could not understand the situation. Why 
were they not being pursued? I expected every mo- 
ment to see the second boat leap after the first, but it 
did not, and I wondered if by chance the mutineers had 
their boat on a remoter part of the island; in which 
■case the odds were in favour of our friends. But as I 
^azed, fascinated, the uproar of fury did not abate on 
the beach, and now, in sweeping the purview with my 
glances, I was aware of a second boat that crawled 
under the shadow of the bluff eastward. It was 
tenanted, as I could make out in the strong light, by 
one man only. What did it mean? Was it possible 
that this was the mutineers’ boat? At a loss what to 
make of it all, I gazed. The boat with the single occu- 
pant having made the bluff now turned, and stood out 
to where the tramp lay, swinging at anchor. It must, 
then, be one of the mutineers, who had stolen his com- 
rades’ boat. 

But now my thoughts came back to our position. 
We were left upon the island with the infuriated muti- 
neers. I could not doubt that Marley and McLeod had 
waited for us as long as they had dared to do, and I 
€ould not blame them that they had pushed off. It 
was their manifest duty, as the capture of the boat by 
the gang would have been fatal to us all. Besides, it 
had been arranged that we should proceed to the cove. 
Thither, therefore, I must forthwith convey Ariadne, 
and to do so in safety, obviously we must travel along 


THE SIX PALMS 


265 


the backbone of the hills, away from the more open 
strand and seaboard. I explained to her what must 
be done. 

“ I trust you,” she said, gazing at me earnestly, as 
a child might gaze at its father. “ I know you can do 
anything. I am not afraid.” Suddenly she put her 
hand to her bosom. “ But see ; I forgot. What is 
this.P It fell out of your pocket when you gave me the 
knife. And I opened it. There is an old piece of 
paper in it.” 

I took it from her, and recognised now that this must 
be the hard object I had dug out of the cavern on the 
Pulpit. I turned it over, and scratched it with the 
knife. It was metal, and, it seemed, silver. It looked 
like an old silver snuff-box. The lid gaped, for dirt 
in the hinges would not allow of its being fully closed 
down again. I opened it, and drew out a discoloured, 
mouldy piece of paper. It was not more than three 
inches long, but was almost as thick as cardboard, and 
had been doubled. I straightened it out curiously. 

It was dulled with age and earth stains, but there 
were certain marks upon it, discernible at once. On 
examining these closely I made out big clumsy lettering 
slantwise : 


FOR JAKE. 

Below this the paper was black with grime, but a cer- 
tain amount of loose dirt which was its envelope flaked 
to the touch of the fingers, and I could perceive that 


266 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


the lettering continued, still in that gross uneducated 
hand. 

. . .oved Headland 6 Palms, N.N.W, 7 foot: Jan, 18. . .. 

Nothing was distinguishable after that, for all ended 
in a great blur. What did it signify.? Ariadne at 
this moment uttered a little cry, and drew my attention 
from the paper. 

“ Look,” she cried. 

I glanced out to sea, and saw that our boat was some 
way off the island, but in the distance the stranger 
steamer seemed very dim. Would they be able to at- 
tract her attention? 

“ What shall we do? ” she asked, putting her arm in 
mine confidingly. “ They have left us.” 

“ Child, are you afraid? ” I asked. 

She shook her head, smiling. “ Not with you.” 

My gaze fell again upon the snuflP-box and the paper 
in my hands. 

“ Let me tell you something,” I said in a quiet voice. 
“ When I gave you that knife this fell from my pocket. 
I had forgotten it was there. I dug it up the night 
before last in the cavern of the Devil’s Pulpit. I was 
digging for treasure, and I came upon this. I thought 
it was a stone — anything. I thought no more about it. 
You opened it, dear, and I find it is a snuff-box. It 
must be over a hundred years old; and it was buried 
with the treasure.” 

“ Ah, but there is no treasure,” she said. 

“ No ; the mutineers found the chests empty,” I said. 


THE SIX PALMS 


267 


“ But it is clear that there was treasure there once. It 
was doubtless used by the men who had possession of 
the chart during the last century. Can you explain 
this, Ariadne mine.^ — ‘For Jake, oved Headland 6 
palms, N.N.W. 7 foot. Jan. 18? ’ ” 

“ What does it mean? ” she asked, her dainty brows 
in a frown. 

“ I’m guessing, Ariadne mine ; but this is my guess : 
I’ve got into fairyland this past night. I stand now in 
faery with the queen of that divine kingdom. WiU she 
deign to give me her hand ? ” I took it, and drew her 
nearer, so that her fair head rested on my shoulder. 
“ If one day, sweetheart, an adventurer had come to 
the conclusion that the hoard was in too inaccessible a 
position, might he not have removed it? ‘Oved’; ob- 
serve. Moved might lie in that. Jake might be a 
friend, a partner. And the rest, the rest that is de- 
cipherable, N.N.W. — a headland — and six palms and — 
well, I can’t guess any further, and the date is incom- 
plete. What think you of that, my Queen of Faery? 
Anything may happen in this wonderful world.” I 
kissed her softly, and she lifted her glowing eyes to me. 

“ The treasure ! ” she panted. 

“ The treasure,” I said, and looked out again to sea. 
“ They are making signals to the steamer, and if they 
get her attention she will put back and rescue us. We 
are safe for the present, and in any case we would be 
better away from here. Marley will expect us at the 
cove, where the steamer will undoubtedly call. In the 
meantime ” 


268 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


You mean we will make the venture — that paper? ” 
she interrupted eagerly. 

If you will, my dearest.” 

“ I will go to the world’s end with you,” she said 
simply. 

Holding her hand, I pulled out my watch, and 
glanced at the position of the sun. I made a rough 
calculation. “ Our way lies over the spur yonder,” I 
said. “ It’s not so difficult as eastward, and we shall 
be out of the way of the mutineers.” 

Suddenly Ariadne looked at me piteously. Oh, 
how hungry I am!” she said. “I’ve just found it 
out.” 

“ I’ll promise you a breakfast,” said I, “ in an hour’s 
time. Come.” 

We set out at once, and when we reached the muti- 
neers’ camp I left her and turned into it to forage. I 
avoided the hut in which the dead Heaven lay, but 
found another in which were some tins of food and some 
bottles. I took as many of the former as I could carry, 
and put a bottle of whisky into my pocket ; and then I 
rejoined Ariadne, and we resumed our gradual ascent. 
We halted an hour later on the heights by a httle gush- 
ing waterfall to eat and rest. I filled a gourd, which 
I scooped out, with sparkling water from the stream, 
emptied a little whisky into it, and bade Ariadne drink 
it. This she did with a wry face, but she had had so 
terrible an experience during the last twelve hours that 
I thought the stimulant was necessary. She was bear- 
ing up bravely under the stress of excitement, but it 


THE SIX PALMS 


269 


was possible at any moment that she might collapse. 
After resting for half-an-hour in the flickering shadows 
and the cool air we resumed our way, and that, with the 
vision of the boat like a dot below and the distant 
steamer with its trail of smoke, was the last we saw of 
the southerly sea for some time. 

Immediately afterwards we began to go down into a 
pleasant valley. The sky was full of clouds charged 
with light, and as we descended we were aware of a 
sensible warmth. To the extreme west, as we could 
now see, the island terminated in a rude and wooded 
bluff, but that clearly could not be the headland of the 
paper, for it was nearly due west of the Pulpit. Be- 
tween where we were and this terminal bluff rolled a 
deep wooded valley, upon the eastern slopes of which we 
walked. It was pretty evident to me that our head- 
land was, therefore, eastward of the valley ; and accord- 
ingly we corrected our direction. The woodland was 
fairly open, and gave wonderful vistas of sea and hill 
and valley. Behind us were the lofty summits of the 
craggy hills surrounding the Devil’s Pulpit. We 
quickened our pace, and soon emerged upon a plateau 
scattered with trees and bare of undergrowth. The 
sea winds, I think, reigned here, blowing sharply at 
times from their northern home, for the trees were 
twisted and gnarled as if driven in from the sea cliffs. 
I cast back my eyes, and the cone of the Pulpit arrested 
them. As near as I could determine it we were N.N.W. 
from that tragic eminence. And here was a headland. 
My heart beat the faster. 


270 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


We walked forward towards the verge of the cliff, 
and standing, I looked down upon two hundred feet of 
space to the white lather of the water on the rocks. 

“ You are not afraid, child ” I asked, holding out 
my hand to her. 

“ Never with you,” she said gladly, and came to my 
side and peered down. “ I am not afraid with you,” 
she repeated. “ See, dear, I give witness to my love 
and faith. If I looked down from a high window I 
shivered ; I cannot bear heights. Yet I look down these 
horrible depths without a tremor — ^with you.” 

I lifted her face and kissed her, there in the eye of 
those dizzy heights, and then we turned and went back. 
It was Ariadne who spoke. 

“ The six palms ! ” 

Her face was alive with excitement; she pointed. I 
followed her hand; and surely enough a grove of date 
palms rose a hundred yards away, where the saddle of 
the headland began to give upon the valley. We both 
broke into a run, holding hands, and came up panting. 

Five tall palms, sheering inward away from the sea 
winds, enclosed a circle; and the stump of a sixth 
remained to speak of its fate in some gale, long past 
and gone, that had ravaged that promontory. 

“ Oh, your paper was right ! ” cried Ariadne ecstat- 
ically. I took it out of the silver snuff-box, and 
scrutinised it once again. 

“ Seven feet.” 

I threw a glance at the ground enclosed by the rough 
circle of the palms. It was overgrown with grass and 


THE SIX PALMS 


271 


low trailing shrubs. The circumference I estimated 
at about sixty feet, and the radius was, therefore, 
nearly twenty. If the treasure was there it was doubt- 
less concealed in the chests in which it had been removed. 
But was it there? As I mused a notion came into my 
head. There would be several chests, and perhaps they 
began to be buried seven feet from the circumference? 
I went down the slope to where the vegetation grew 
more luxuriously, followed by the eager Ariadne, and 
I cut a big stick, making the thick end into a pointed 
stake. 

“ Cut me one ; oh, do cut me one ! ” pleaded my dear. 
And so I cut her one and, armed with these instruments, 
we climbed back to the circle of palms to dig ! First, I 
measured seven feet from the circumference, and then, 
having cleared away grasses and trailing undergrowth, 
I began to dig with my stake. It was hard work, and 
it was slow work. The sun was high now and we 
laboured in a tropical heat tempered only by the in-blow- 
ing sea breeze. Soon Ariadne tired, for she was in no 
physical condition to stand arduous work just then, and 
I was left to continue by myself. At a depth of be- 
tween two and three feet I struck something hard, and 
at once proceeded to open a bigger hole for the pur- 
poses of inspection. This took me half-an-hour, 
but by the end of that time I was rewarded by bringing 
to light the iron-bound lid of a heavy chest. 

Ariadne cried out in her excitement, clapping her 
hands like a child. I cleared still more of the earth 
away, and forced the lock. The chest was now com- 


m THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 

pletely dug about, and I tried to raise the lid. It 
resisted all my efforts, and so I was driven back on my 
resources. I was resolved to test the cache to the full, 
remembering the bitter disappointment of the muti- 
neers. I now went again into the wood, and returned 
with a long stout pole, which I had broken from a 
sapling. I inserted this in a crack of the Hd, and 
using it as a lever, slowly put my weight on it. With a 
rending sound the wood gave way, and the lid, torn 
from the lock, prized open. Ariadne leaned over the 
hole flushed and tremulous. The chest was full to the 
brim. 

Coins of all kinds were there, gold, silver, and copper, 
guineas and louis d’or, pieces of eight, moidores, and 
doubloons ; and mingling with them was a confusion of 
precious stones, pearls, diamonds, rubies, and sapphires 
in rings, necklaces, and brooches — all piled in a heap, 
the spoil of those dead Caribbean pirates torn from 
dead victims two hundred years ago. Ariadne drew a 
deep breath. “ Oh ! ” she said, and looked at me. 

But there was more to be done. I wanted to discover 
exactly how far the cache extended, and so I proceeded 
a little further, still keeping seven feet from the ring, 
and resumed operations. The stake came down upon 
the top of something hard, as before, within three feet 
from the surface, and when, after a great deal more 
labour, I had cleared the earth from the second chest, 
and opened it, a similar sight met my eye. Further 
exploration revealed a third chest; but now I did not 
trouble to open this, for I began to understand the 


THE SIX PALMS 


273 


system. The chests had been buried in a central ring 
within the outer ring of the palms, and at a rough 
guess I estimated the number at seven. But what was 
the value of the contents of these seven chests? I could 
but vaguely wonder in my mind, and more vaguely con- 
jecture. From the glance I had of the first its con- 
tents might be worth anything up to £100,000 ! If so 
— my imagination staggered under the calculation. 
And then to that succeeded the thought, was even that 
vast sum worth the sacrifice of life it had entailed, the 
terrible passions it had let loose? But it was no time 
to moralise. We had found that for which we had set 
out, at an infinite cost of pains and bloodshed; and it 
was my duty to let Halliday know. We must make our 
way to the cove with as much expedition as possible. I 
began to cover up the exposed chests, as I explained to 
Ariadne our immediate course, but when I came to the 
chest which we had first opened I paused. An idea 
flashed into me. I had been the discoverer of what 
Halliday had given up as hopelessly lost — I and 
Ariadne. Well, I would just take toll of one little 
thing, an atom among many. Among the dull gold of 
the guineas and doubloons and louis d’or, lying as on a 
bed, was a single shining opal ring — large and brilliant 
as a rainbow. I took it, and seizing her hand gently, 
slipped it on the third finger. ‘‘ My present, sweet,” 
I said. 

She looked at me with dewy eyes, but said nothing, 
only held me fast, and then, with a gulp of tears, 
broke out: 


274 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I hope I shall be happier than the poor soul who 
once wore this ! ” 

‘‘ Happy ! ” I echoed. “ Yes ; it will bring compen- 
sation. It has outlasted ill-luck. It will bring you 
happiness.” 

And I kissed her there above the hoard of treasure, 
under the shadow of the six palms. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 

We were now bound for the cove, but before setting 
out we must make shift to take a meal. We had been 
at work for some hours, and the sun stood at noon. I 
was not alarmed, however, by this fact, as I was aware 
that our comrades would not leave the island without 
us. If they were picked up by the strange steamer 
they would see that she returned to rescue us. So we 
ate heartily of our tinned food, and drank from a little 
sparkling tarn which we discovered in the hillside. 
After that, feeling refreshed and rested, we made a 
start. 

We kept along the northern slopes at a uniform level 
for some time, until we reached the divide where the 
ridge broke up into separate fragments, and went down 
to the eastern sea like the spread fingeirs of a hand. On 
this summit, before our descent into the most southerly 
of these coves or bays, we got a wide prospect of the 
sea southward. To my surprise and chagrin I saw 
upon the horizon a low, small dot as of a vessel disap- 
pearing into the amplitude of the ocean. It was 
manifest, then, that our party had failed to attract 
the steamer’s attention, and my heart sank. And then 
I had my second surprise; for casting my glance down 
to the cove below, and the bluff off which the Duncannon 


275 


276 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


had swung at anchor, I found her gone. My eyes 
swept an empty sea. I stared, wondering what this 
might portend, when again, away on the horizon, I 
made out a second blotch. The tramp had deserted the 
island ! 

For some moments I stood there revolving in my mind 
the possibilities of the situation. Could Marley and 
the others have regained possession of the Duncannom 
from the mutineers who remained, never, I guessed, so 
unscrupulous and tough a lot as their partners ashore.^ 
But if so, they would certainly not have left us behind. 
Had they been overpowered by the gang under Clifford 
and Davenant? But Clifford and Davenant were with- 
out a boat. Who was the single adventurer in their 
boat whom we had descried? Puzzles faced me in every 
direction. At the worst, we might be alone on the 
island with the vile pack of mutineers. At the best, the 
mutineers might have escaped and left our party ma- 
rooned. But was that best? I had another alterna- 
tive, at which my heart stirred. Were Ariadne and I 
alone on the island? And should we have to take up 
life there under the conditions of Robinson Crusoe or a 
Swiss Family, until we were rescued by a passing ship? 
It was, of course, foolish of me to have contemplated 
this solution, yet I did so, with a certain pleasure. I 
even went the length of hurriedly calculating the 
chances of stocking a larder under the threatened con- 
ditions. 

“ Ariadne,” I asked her, “ would you much mind if 
we had to play at Robinson Crusoe here ? ” 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 277 

“ No,” she said softly after a long pause; “ not with 
you.” 

“ Well, sweet, it may be thrust upon us. But 
nothing is certain. The only thing certain is that noth- 
ing is certain. We must go down to the cove, and then 
we shall know more. 

We descended slowly, for there was no need for haste 
now, and I had much to turn over in my thoughts. The 
bush was rough and luxuriant, and at times the hill was 
steep, and I had to hand Ariadne down from tree-trunk 
to tree-trunk. But at last we got upon the flat ground 
at the base, which was closely wooded, and thus shut 
off our view of the water. We advanced with great 
caution, and, putting up a warning hand to my com- 
panion, I went some dozen paces ahead of her. I came 
to a pause behind a bush, and levelled my revolver in 
readiness, for a sound, as of a man creeping, caught 
my ear. Then everything was still, and only the noisy 
water on the beach was audible. 

Then I was aware of a muzzle pointing towards me 
through the bush behind which I sheltered, and of a 
hand that held it. I did not know whether I was visible 
from the other side, but I did not move, and for some 
minutes we stood there, each with his hfted weapon on 
either side of the bush. Then a branch cracked under 
me, and the hand on the other side, as if moved in 
excitement or alarm, emerged more clearly through the 
twigs. 

“ Marley ! ” I called ; I recognised the hairy, swarthy 
skin. 


278 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ That you, old man? ” he cried. “ Great Scott ! I 
nearly put a hole in your gizzard.” He came out of 
hiding. “ It was a near thing,” he went on in his 
friendly manner. “ I couldn’t be quite sure it was a 
branch or a human arm I saw, and I thought of letting 
drive on the off-chance.” 

“ Glad you didn’t,” I replied. ‘‘ I saw you, but 
simply didn’t shoot, because I didn’t know who you 
were. You might have been a mutineer.” 

“No; the blighters are over there.” He nodded 
towards the bluff. We hadn’t any luck — couldn’t 
get those beggars to see our signals, though I waved 
every blessed rag I had on my back on the top of the 
oars. So we came along here. I say, where’s Miss 
Sylvester ? ” 

“ She’s safe,” I said, and called: “ Miss Sylvester! ” 

Ariadne drew out of the bushes, alert and sweet and 
smiling. “ Oh, I’m so glad you’re better, Mr. Marley,” 
she said. 

“ I’m as fit as a fiddle,” he said. “ I’m equal to 
another scrap too. It was like my luck to be out of the 
fun last time.” 

He was quite an amazing person, was Marley, with 
his good nature, familiarity, bad language, and general 
indifference to moral precepts. We went back with 
him to the encampment, hearing his story as we walked. 

“We waited for you, old chap, till the last; and 
then we had to do a bolt. Those panthers came down 
in a rage royal and scared us off. Why, there wasn’t 
any treasure, it seems. And they kicked up a devil 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 279 


of a row. I tell you, from the ugly looks of those 
Dagoes, Clifford and Co. must have a nice shop to shut 
up. They’d seen their boat stolen from under their 
noses. Oh, I say. Miss Sylvester, it was your uncle. 
Great Scott, the old man had ’em nicely on toast, regu- 
larly gave them the pip. I chuckled. He cleared out 
with their blooming boat, my boy — hooked it and went 
aboard the Duncannon.^' He paused, looking seaward 
meditatively. “ Though where the blazes she’s gone 
and what he’s up to fairly beats me.” 

“ He’s gone to get help,” declared Ariadne posi- 
tively. “ I know he has.” 

“ But how did he manage all those beggars on 
board ” he asked doubtfully. 

“ Oh, he bribed them once; he’d bribe them again,” 
said Ariadne confidently. 

“ Well, if that’s the case,” said Marley cheerfully, 
“ we ain’t in so bad a fix as I thought. But crickey, 
old man, it was up against us,” he added. 

We were cordially welcomed by McLeod, and by 
Halliday, who had recovered from his blow. McLeod 
was effiusive in his attitude to Ariadne, and somehow, 
for a moment, I experienced a return of my old feeling 
against him. But it was an ungenerous impulse, and I 
fought it off. It was curious and even pathetic to 
observe the change in Halliday. He had come back to 
consciousness, and he was cheerfully courteous, and 
even ceremonious, but he had lost all his elasticity. He 
was a beaten man, and he showed his consciousness of 
this in a tender resignation. He was very thoughtful 


280 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


of others, and kept Ariadne’s hand in his for some min- 
utes while he shook it, welcoming her back to safety. 

“ I had just given you up, my dear,” he said in his 
strange, young-old fatherly manner. “ But I’m right 
glad to see you back. Herapath’s a good man at need, 
and I reckon he’s pulled you through. We’re going to 
hear all about it as soon as you’ve had some food and 
rest. Come right along.” 

“ Mr. Herapath’s good at need,” said Ariadne, flash- 
ing at me brightly, “ and he’s got something to tell 
you.” 

“ That’s right. We’ll be much interested in your 
adventures,” said Halliday pleasantly, patting her 
hand. “ Come away in. We’ve got some desiccated 
soup, and I guess it’s as good as gold. Collins here is 
a right down fine cook.” 

We sat down under the tree which sheltered the party 
from the hot sun, and the first thing I did was to ask 
for a pipe. 

“ Right, old man,” said Marley. “ ‘ Like as the 
hart desireth the water brooks,’ hey.? ” He pulled out a 
plug of tobacco. “ Lucky we put some in the cache. 
We’ve got about enough provisions to last us two days. 
Reckon that uncle of yours will have to come along 
quick. Miss Sylvester.” 

“ What’s that.? ” asked Halliday, and was informed 
of our conjecture. 

He listened thoughtfully, and then said wistfully: 
‘‘ Say, wouldn’t it have been fine if we were putting 
aboard the treasure then? But I guess little Willie’s 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 281 


gone and put his coat on a dead ’un this time. If he 
can shove off with his carcass he’ll not squeal.” 

“ But — ^but ” broke in Ariadne, all radiance, ‘‘ it 

isn’t — oh, Mr. Herapath will tell you. Tell, oh, 
tell.” 

“ I think,” said I deliberately, crossing my legs, 
smiling at her sweet face, and puffing at my pipe — “ I 
think that this is Miss Sylvester’s story. I will go so 
far. The Clifford gang took her, and they also took 
me, as you know; and when I got back to her my 
narrative ends. Hers begins, for the discovery was 
hers.” 

“No, no!” she cried. “It wasn’t. It was yours. 

I only — well ” She was so excited that she turned 

off again in her course. “ They seized me — ^because I 
heard them talking — in order to secure Mr. Herapath; 
they wanted to weaken the garrison, and they chained 
him up with ropes and things, and he was there all 
night.” 

“ Let us come to the discovery, please,” I urged. 

“ Oh yes ; and — well, I won’t talk about that, because 
it was hateful. But when he went away he gave me a 
knife out of his pocket — and something fell out on the 
ground, and I picked it up when he was gone, and it 
was a snuff-box. I mean Mr. Herapath found it was 
when he came back. And so I showed it to him, and 
we opened it, and there was a paper in it.” 

“ Wait,” said Halliday, who was listening with open 
eyes. “ I don’t just understand what this snuff- 
box is.” 


282 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ I picked it up in the cave on the Devil’s Pulpit,” 
I said. 

“ Go on ! ” he said tensely. 

“ And then,” panted Ariadne, resuming her wild 
incoherent narrative, “ Mr. Herapath made it out, and 
it said about six palms, and seven feet, and N.N.W., 
and how it was for Jake, and ” 

“ Great Scott, what’s this ! ” cried Marley. 

She turned to him. “ Oh, Mr. Marley, if you’d only 
seen them, the chests full of gold, and ” 

“ Let us get the hang of this, please,” said Halliday, 
interrupting ; and his fingers were trembling. “ What 
about this paper ? ” 

For answer I took the snuff-box from my pocket and 
gave it to him. I deciphered the letters for him, and 
was giving my interpretation, when Ariadne broke in 
impetuously. 

“Oh, see — see! Think of my nearly forgetting!” 
She thrust her pretty hand under his nose. “ This 
ring was there. It came from there. There were 
heaps more — thousands I Oh, it was wonderful.” 

“ We’re getting along now,” said Halhday, with 
marvellous restraint, his eyes gloating over the ring. 
“ Guess you ran the hoard to earth then, Herapath ! 
That’s your news ? ” 

“ That’s about the size of it,” I answered. 

The faces of the group, which included CoUins, were 
turned aglow upon me. 

“ By Jupiter, it’s a fairy tale! ” exclaimed Marley. 

Now that I had reached my climax I set out to ex- 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 283 


plain in detail, and we gave the gaping auditors a 
history of our adventures. At the close Halliday mois- 
tened his lips. 

“ Say, Marley, you got a pencil any way? ” he said 
feverishly. “ Doctor, I’d be obliged if you’d bring out 
one of those bottles yonder and draw a cork. I guess 
we’re going to have a drink on this. And I’ll trouble 
someone for a piece of paper. I’m going to figure out 
things.” 

McLeod brought from the cache one of the few 
battles of champagne which had accidentally come 
ashore with us, and soon the cork popped, while Halli- 
day ’s nose was over his notes. 

“ Here you are, man,” said McLeod, handing him 
the gourd in which the yellow wine was bubbhng. Hal- 
liday looked up, and saw smiling faces. His wore a 
serious look. 

He sipped the wine meditatively. “ Here’s to the 
treasure, boys ! ” he said, and bowed very formally in 
Ariadne’s direction. 

Yes, there was that treasure too. She met my eyes 
tenderly, and drank a little of her wine. 

“ Here’s to your success, Mr. HaUiday. Your pluck 
has carried you through.” 

“ Now, I was going to say,” remarked the American 
slowly, “ that it wasn’t precisely my pluck. Anyway, 
I’m glad I’m through, and I offer you another toast, 
gentlemen. To the discoverers ! ” 

They drank this with good-fellowship, looking 
towards Ariadne and myself. 


284 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ It’s lucky,” observed Halliday, sipping his cham- 
pagne, “ that I didn’t take up this wine scheme. I 
guess it would have got hold of me, and I’d have been a 
drunkard.” 

The idea seemed so preposterous that I could hardly 
keep from laughter. 

“Not you, old man,” growled Marley; “you’ve got 
plenty of backbone.” 

“ I’m not exactly saying I haven’t,” he answered 
complacently. “ I generally work through if I start. 
Now take this gold business. I reckon there’s few who 
would have started out on the proposition, as I had it. 
Herapath here laughed at me. Well, the laugh’s on 
him now.” 

I laughed at him again, in contemplation of the 
change in him. He was transmogrified beyond all be- 
lief ; in a way, he was transfigured by his triumph, and 
his fair hair shone in the sunshine like an aureole about 
an ethereal face. He dazzled with the urbane sover- 
eignty of his self-satisfaction. 

“ We aren’t out of the wood yet,” I reminded him. 

It might have been cruelty, if it had had any effect; 
but Halliday, in his recovered self-possession, was proof 
against all doubts and difficulties once again. 

“ I guess we’ll wait for the Duncannon and Mr. Car- 
vaulx,” he said. “ We can get along all right till then. 
Well, now, see here. I’ve just been figuring out things 
and putting ’em down roughly. We’ve got to make out 
a new scheme.” He looked round. “ There’s eight of 
us in this now, and Digby there aboard. I’m going 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 285 


to tear up those agreements all round and start fresh. 
And seems to me the best I can do is to put it into a 
joint-stock company shape. We reckon nine of us; 
Digby, I guess, must put up with what he was going to 
get, coming in at the eleventh hour, so to speak. The 
capital of this concern, gentlemen, is one thousand 
dollars — two hundred pounds; and Digby’s going to 
have eighty-five dollar shares in it. Carter there, and 
Collins, and the other are coming in a bit too, for this 
is mutual concern. Well, I’ve had some difficulty in 
fixing up the shares of Marley and McLeod and myself. 
Anyway, I’ve figured out something.” He consulted 
his notes. “ Then there’s Miss Sylvester and Herapath. 
They’re mighty awkward. We got to take Digby as 
our basis, and climb up from him. I’ll get it fixed up 
this evening right enough.” 

“ This is what I call priemature,” observed McLeod 
somewhat testily. 

Halliday observed him gravely. “ Doctor,” he said, 
wagging a finger, “ you take my word for it, there’s 
nothing premature, save premature death, and that 
don’t count, because it wipes out. And if a man’s got 
a bit of time squeezed out anywheres, he’s going to fit 
something into that crack, or lose an opportunity later 
on. If we can square things now, we won’t be wasting 
our time and tempers later. For as for me, I’m blamed 
if I’m being occupied much just now.” 

That was true enough. We had the time on our 
hands, and our only occupation was waiting. Our 
camp was fortified by its store of provisions for a day 


286 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


or two, so that it would not be necessary to forage till 
then, and maybe events would make it unnecessary to 
forage at all. Yet it was hard to sit down and idle, 
always with the anxiety of the mutineering party at 
the back of our minds. So far they had not shown any 
signs of troubling the camp, but it was always possible 
that they might make up their minds to descend upon 
the cove at any moment, out of mere wanton desire of 
vengeance, or to obtain possession of the boat. It was 
that latter thought that hung in my mind all the after- 
noon. I left Ariadne to her much-needed rest, and 
made an inspection of the neighbourhood. Halhday 
was puzzling out his proportions, and Marley was in 
charge of the camp. McLeod and I made the tour to- 
gether, and discussed the chances of a surprise attack, 

“ They won’t dare,” he said. “ They’ve nothing to 
gain by it now. There’s no treasure, so far as they 
know.” 

‘‘ There’s the boat,” I urged ; “ and if the Duncannon 
is returning with help, as we hope, there is the neces- 
sity of their getting away before she does. That’s vital 
to them. To my mind, it’s more vital than treasure.” 

“ They can’t have any hope of that,” he said. 

“ Well, it’s a risk, but they’ve got to take it,” I 
replied. “ If they had a boat they could make a bolt of 
it, and trust to chance. There are other islands not 
far off; and Crashaw, at any rate, is a good sailor.” 

He did not seem convinced, but directed the talk to a 
topic that was even more important for us. 

“ How if she doesn’t return ? ” he said moodily. 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 287 


“ We’re done,” I said shortly. “ We’re at the mercy 
of chance — a passing steamer. I daresay we can man- 
age to subsist, but it will be little more ; and, by heaven, 
all the treasure in the world won’t make any difference 
to us then.” 

“ That’s what puts me out with that fanatic yonder,” 
said McLeod, jerking his elbow. “ Now the treasure’s 
found he’s in heaven, when he ought to be in hell.” 

“ No,” I demurred. “ Purgatory.” 

He paid no heed; we had got to the eastern slope 
of the cove, where the trees overhung the deep blue 
water that swept in a little tide of foam against the 
sandy shore. 

“ There’s fish,” he said, pointing into the clear 
depths. 

“ Oh, we shan’t starve,” I agreed. 

On the top of the bluff across the little bay something 
caught my eye. It moved, and I put it down as a man. 
I indicated it to McLeod. 

‘‘ Yes,” he said. ‘‘ Prospecting. But there’s noth- 
ing for them here. I shouldn’t wonder if the bluff 
alone separated us. Purgatory Well, maybe you’re 
right ; but it spells hell in the end.” 

We turned and went back, for the dusk was falling, 
and we had certain precautions to take before dark. 
The camp had awakened into life when we got back. 
Halliday had finished his calculations, which, he de- 
clared, would be acceptable to us, and which he would 
set before us in the morning. But I do not think any 
one of us cared two straws about them while our fate 


288 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


hung in the balance. The initial excitement of the dis- 
covery had worn off, and was succeeded by apathy. We 
settled into silence and the night in a dismal mood. 

In spite of my recent trials and exertions I could not 
get any consecutive sleep of account; and I at last got 
up, and joined the sentry, who was Carter. After some 
conversation with him I left the camp, and strolled 
down towards the beach. 

The night was lifting, and the water was spectral- 
grey under the whip of a stiff wind. It rolled in with 
a continuous drone upon the shells and sand of the cove. 
I made my way round towards the outstanding bluff, 
and climbed the heights out of mere restlessness rather 
than with any design. But once on the top I cast my 
eyes westward for any evidence of the enemy’s presence. 
Nothing was visible inland, but an eye of light twinkled 
on the beach through the trees, a mile away, and I con- 
jectured this to mark the camp. The wind was cool, 
and I had lost the heat engendered by my ascent and so 
turned to go down. On one side of the bluff I seemed 
to make out a shadow that moved upon the water. I 
hurried down the hill, and came out upon the margin of 
the bay. The shadow was still there, and still moved. 
And then, with a thrill of fury and fear, I realised the 
situation. Someone was making off with our boat. 

The boat was some two hundred yards from shore, 
standing off in the rough water, and if anything was to 
be done I must act at once. Without hesitating I 
plunged into the sea, and struck out towards it. I 
swam quietly for some time, dipping in the heavy seas. 


THE REFUGE IN THE COVE 289 


and wondering when I should emerge into the field of 
vision. It was almost certain that the runaway had 
not distinguished me in the black shadows of the shore, 
but if he kept a good watch, as he must surely do, he 
must eventually spy me, a dark blotch upon the face 
of the bay. I had time to wonder what would happen. 
In a little I knew. 

For I was only some thirty paces from the boat when 
the occupant rose, oars in hand, and peered out in his 
wake silently. Then he set to harder than before. Evi- 
dently he was trying to run away from me. I increased 
my stroke, but I could not gain on him. He had me 
beaten. Despair seized me. And then suddenly he 
stopped rowing, and waited on his oars. I approached 
until I was no more than twelve yards away, in the 
black trough of the water, and his figure was outlined 
in the twilight. Then he laughed shortly; and I knew 
him. He never moved from his seat, but just shipped 
his oars, and leaned to the side. 

“ I’ve wanted you badly, my cock,” he said ; “ you’re 
too good for this life. And so you’re off to heaven.” 

He chuckled at his joke, and as I mounted the roller 
a flash was in my eye. I heard nothing, for I dived at 
that moment. Indeed, I think I must have gone under 
before he pulled the trigger, and my fancy had supplied 
the flash. I held my breath as long as I could, and then 
came up. The boat was three yards away, Clifford, 
revolver in hand, was peering into the broken water, 
and his back was to me. I had gone under the boat. 
In two strokes I had my hand on the rudder, and next 


290 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


moment I was aboard. He jumped round as I rose to 
my feet, but his shot went wide. Then 1 took hold of 
Jiim. 

“ I think Heaven wants you,” I said, “ but that’s not 
where he’s waiting.” 

And I threw him out into the sea, into which he sank 
with a mighty splash. Then I sat down, and began to 
pull into the cove again. Clifford did not rise, as far 
as I could see; but I confess I did not bestow much 
consideration upon him. I rowed for the shore as hard 
as I could. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE FRENCHMAN 

This attempt, so nearly successful, frightened our 
party. They had relaxed discipline and grown slack 
in the demoralisation of the flight, and Marley expressed 
penitence in his usual frank way. 

‘‘ I’m damn well ashamed of myself, old chap,” he 
said. “ I didn’t think of the beggars making for the 
boat. I thought they might attack, but that was all. 
We ought to have put a guard on the boat.” 

“ They don’t want to fight if they can help it,” 
I said. “ This was a much easier way. I don’t 
know where the brains are, but I begin to suspect 
Clifford. He’s more than a little drunken jocular 
ruffian.” 

“ It’s either him or Davenant, curse him,” agreed 
Marley. 

This conversation took place in the early dawn, when, 
having turned into some spare garments, I was drying 
my wet clothes by the fire and sipping a httle whisky 
and water. 

“ I don’t know but what we’d better let ’em have the 
boat,” mused Marley gloomily. “ I’d rather have their 
room than their company, any day. Let ’em clear out, 
and then we’d be quite a comfortable party on a desert 
island. Shouldn’t mind a week or two of it. There’s 


291 


292 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


fish, and we could keep ourselves going on the birds. 
What the blazes is that ? ” 

He pointed to sea, on which a drift of smoke was 
visible. 

“ It’s a steamer ! ” I exclaimed. 

“ Done with you ; and the old tramp, I’ll lay. Bully 
for Frenchy.” 

We rose in our excitement, and stared. It was, un- 
doubtedly, a steamer, and it did not take us very long 
to make out that she was approaching the island. 
Half-an-hour later she was distinct upon the horizon; 
and the camp, awake and alert now, was full of talk and 
speculation and cheerfulness. 

“ I knew uncle had gone for help,” declared Ariadne 
as soon as we had decided that the steamer was the 
Buncannon, 

“ How the deuce did he get it so soon ? ” wondered 
Marley. “ We’re a sight of a way off the nearest 
port.” 

But the problem would solve itself in due course, and 
we waited with impatience, but with joy, for the solu- 
tion. It was seven o’clock in the morning when the 
Duncannon cast anchor a mile in the offing ; and imme- 
diately upon that a boat put off from her side. We 
hung on the progress of that boat in a way which you 
can conceive ; and when it vanished behind the bluff our 
whole party raced up the hill — all, that is, save Carter, 
who was left in charge with the wounded stoker. When 
we had reached the summit we could look down upon 
the long line of beach that curved towards the creek. 


THE FRENCHMAN 


293 


and we saw the boat inshore, and several of the muti- 
neers watching it. They were, no doubt, of the opin- 
ion that their own party were still in possession of the 
ship. We could see them hail the boat. 

“ Shout ! ” I cried ; and my companions and I gave 
them a lead. We all shouted, and the stream of our 
united voices rose on the wind. I also fired a revolver, 
and for some moments we made a determined demon- 
stration. The boat paused; and then after a momen- 
tary hesitation swerved and came along towards the 
bluff. A yell from the shore greeted this manoeuvre, 
and the mutineers started to run towards us, keeping 
parallel with the boat. It was evident that they had 
discovered their mistake. And now began a race upon 
which depended the fortunes of both parties. The 
mutineers ran to cut off the boat before it should reach 
the cove, and we ran precipitately down the bluff to 
encourage the rowers. 

It soon became evident that the boat would outpace 
the men on the shore, who had a clear path to the bluff, 
but would not be able to surmount that rough ascent 
before the boat could slip round the point. Seeing 
this, I suggested to Marley that we should descend on 
the cove side, and this diversion we immediately made. 
Ariadne had insisted on accompanying us, and she sped 
like Atalanta, reckless of stones and shrubs, breathless, 
but full of life and colour. And thus we got down to 
the sea just as the boat turned the point and put up her 
rudder to enter. I shouted, and a man in the stern 
waved his hand. Ten minutes later, when the fore- 


294 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


most of the mutineers was mounting the crest of the 
bluff, the boat beached near us. A young fair man of 
some five or six and twenty rose from the stem. 

“ Captain Wade.? ” he called out. 

“ Dead ! ” called back Marley. “ I’m in charge.” 

The young man climbed ashore. “ This is a damned 
bad business,” he said, and then seeing a lady, raised 
his cap. “ Beg pardon,” he said, “ but they’ve pitched 
me a tall yarn. Those your hands ? ” 

He nodded towards the bluff. “ Mutinied,” said 
Marley. 

“ I made a mistake — ^nearly fell up against them,” 
said the young man. 

“Who are you.?” asked McLeod. “Where do you 
spring from.? Glad to see you, anyway.” 

“ Why, damn it, there’s Harris,” said Marley, point- 
ing to a man at the oars. 

Harris, with a weak grin, touched his cap. 

“ I’m R. M. S. Trinidad, fourth officer Ellicombe,” 
explained the young man. “ Had an accident to our 
steering gear yesterday, and got a bit out of our way. 
Lucky for you we did.” 

“By Jove,” said McLeod. “You’re right. We 
were in a tight corner.” 

“ Did my uncle find you ? ” inquired Ariadne. 

Ellicombe looked puzzled. 

“ Frenchman,” said Marley explanatorily. 

“ Oh, him! Well, he’s aboard safe. Lucky for him 
too. Your blessed tub would have foundered if we 
hadn’t hit on it. Every blessed man tight as blazes,” he 


THEFRENCHMAN 295 

explained, with a grin, “ and the little old — your uncle, 
miss — in a blue funk.” 

“ What the deuce ” began Marley ; but I inter- 

rupted. 

‘‘ Look here, if I’m not mistaken there’ll be trouble 
with those scoundrels on the hill. It’s their last chance. 
Don’t be taken at a quiet tea-party.” 

Marley looked up. “ We’d best be moving,” he said. 

“ There’s room aboard. Come along. We’ll fetch 
the ship in no time,” said the young officer cheerfully. 

. “ I guess we’ve got to get back and pick up a friend 
or two,” said Halliday, who was out of breath with his 
unwonted physical exertions, and had hitherto been 
listening. “ This is my show, Mr. Ellicombe.” 

The young officer hesitated. ‘‘ Seems a tough lot,” 
he remarked. “ Made a set at us as soon as we began 
backing out. It it hadn’t been for Harris, as you call 
him, we’d have been in among them. He gave us the 
tip. Then we heard your signals.” 

It was a comfort to know that one at least of the 
mutineers had returned to his loyalty; but there was 
much yet to learn. We entered the boat, as the muti- 
neers showed on the hill, and the strong arms of the 
rowers pulled her towards the top of the cove, where 
Carter and the stoker were anxiously awaiting us. 

We had time for some further explanations on the 
way. What was puzzling me was the Frenchman. The 
mail boat had picked up a drunken tramp, staggering 
in the wilds of a dirty sea, and had taken her in charge 
like a decent constable. 


296 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Sent me aboard with half-a-dozen men,” explained 
Ellicombe. “ She was walking round her own head, as 
if she wanted to see her own phiz,” laughed the young 
man. “ No one at the wheel, and the little Frenchman 
scared out of his life! A warm lot! I’ve got ’em 
sobered down a bit by now, but they’re not worth much. 
They’re cheap enough still.” 

“ And you heard of the mutiny ? ” I burst out. 

“ Yes. Your man, Digby, told me. Found him in 
irons. Great Scott ! A warm lot ! It was he told me 
about you, and that brought me off in the boat.” 

“ Digby ! ” I cried. It was not the Frenchman, 
then. Poor, grumbling, forgotten Digby had been the 
means of our deliverance. 

“ I guess Digby’s got to have his share raised a bit,” 
remarked Halliday thoughtfully. 

“ And my uncle? ” broke in Ariadne. 

“ Your uncle, miss ” said Ellicombe vaguely, and 

remembered. “ Oh, the Frenchman ! I haven’t seen him 
since. He got scared, and I believe he’s in his cabin re- 
covering. My, it was pretty warm,” he repeated again. 

There it was again. The Frenchman puzzled me. 

“ Where the dickens was the old hooker bound for ? ” 
demanded Marley. 

“ There you get me,” replied the young man. “ Roll- 
ing like a porpoise on a holiday. I don’t believe she 
was going anywhere.” 

“ Why, there’s Harris,” I called suddenly. Harris 
can say. Hi, Harris, what’s all this? Come back to 
your senses, eh? ” 


THE FRENCHMAN 


297 


‘‘ I ought to give the j oker what he’s asked for,” 
observed Marley reminiscently. 

‘‘ Don’t frighten him,” I answered back. “ We 
can’t afford it. Pass it over. It’s not as if he was one 
of the murdering crowd ashore.” 

Harris by this had cleared his throat nervously. 

“ Yes, sir,” he answered. “ They made fools of us.” 

“ Just about the edges,” I assented. “ And what 
course were you laying ? ” 

“ Nicaragua, sir,” said Harris after a pause. 

“ Nicaragua ! ” we all exclaimed in amazement. 

“ What the devil ” Marley opened his mouth. 

“ Who the mischief was going to Nicaragua.'^ ” 
he asked. 

‘‘ Steady ! ” said I, laying my hand on his arm. 
‘‘ Look yonder ! ” 

The water was broken from the wind of the night, 
and the boat rocked in the swell. We were within fifty 
yards of the head of the cove, and less than fifty yards 
of the shores on each side. A figure in the new sun- 
light had caught my eye. Soon it disappeared in the 
bushes. 

“ What is it.? ” asked McLeod. 

“ Put her over the other side,” I said to Ellicombe, 
who was steering at the land. 

‘‘ A warm lot ! ” he murmured under his breath. 
“ Golly, what a warm lot ! ” 

The boat swung out towards the farther wall of the 
cove, and the rowers increased the pace. 

“ No ; look here, old man, this won’t do,” said Marley. 


298 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ If we hang off here they’ll be down on Carter and 
the boat. They can’t all have come up yet. We’ve 
got to fight ’em. Put her round, old chap.” 

EUicombe hesitated. He was young to have this sud- 
den responsibility. “ Oh, hell ! ” he said, and obeyed. 
We were now not more than thirty paces away from 
the shore. 

“Aback there!” called a resonant voice from the 
bushes. “ I’ve got a bead on you, and I’U 
fire.” 

“ Cut along, lads,” urged Marley, as the crew hesi- 
tated; “ we’re not afraid of ghosts.” 

“ Herapath,” called the voice, “ I’ve got the girl 
fixed, and I’ll shoot if you don’t stop.” 

“ Stop for God’s sake I ” I cried. 

“No, no; go on,” cried Ariadne, pale as death. 
The oars ceased, and there was silence for some time. 
McLeod had risen in the boat and was staring defiantly 
towards the land. 

“ By gum, I could pick you off, doc,” said a new 
voice, which I recognised as CliflPord’s, panting but 
jocose, “ Talk about a haystack I I haven’t had a shot 
at a rabbit for a month of Sundays.” 

“ Sit down 1 ” I said to McLeod. 

His face was full of a fury, and his red hair caught 
the rays of the risen sun. He fingered his revolver 
fretfully. 

“ Damn it, this isn’t a music hall,” cried a voice from 
the shore. “ Let her go.” 

Crack! McLeod put out a hand as though to save 


THEFRENCHMAN 299 

himself from falling, and then fell sideways among the 
rowers. Ariadne uttered a cry. 

“ Oh, hell ! ” said the young officer. 

I lifted up McLeod, but saw at a glance that he was 
gone. 

“ Now, by the God that made me ” I began in a 

f renzy . 

“ Don’t, old man, don’t,” said Marley soothingly. 
“ They’ve got us in a cleft stick.” 

“ Herapath, I’ve got the filly covered.” This was 
Clifford’s voice again. “ Put about and go out. I’ll 
give you ten seconds,” he shouted. 

“ They want that boat of ours,” breathed Marley 
hoarsely. “ It’s a rule of terror.” 

“ Let’s get out,” said Ellicombe uneasily. “ They’re 
too tough.” 

I seized Ariadne swiftly, and jerked her on to the 
boards of the boat. “ Down, anyone who likes,” I 
said. “ I’m not going like this.” 

Collins cast a glance at me. “ I’ll go with you, sir,” 
he said. 

“ Down all ! ” I called ; and a flash came with my 
words. I was in the sea as I spoke, and I knew not 
what happened behind me; for I was under water for 
several yards, and I rose on the farther side from the 
boat. Casting a glance back I saw it rocking on the 
water, and apparently empty. I struck out strongly 
for the shore, and was soon out of range. 

Landing in the undergrowth, I quickly made my way 
into the thickets, and there cast about for a weapon of 


300 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


some sort. I found a heavy branch, which I trimmed 
with my knife into the semblance of a pole, and, armed 
with this, I forced my way through the scrub, towards 
our camp. As I drew near I heard a shot, and I guessed 
that Clifford had, while holding the boat, diverted some 
of his force against Carter on shore. I tumbled along 
as fast as I could, and reached the spot just in time. 
The stoker lay stretched out upon the ground, and Car- 
ter from behind him was deliberately, and without haste, 
loading his gun. He raised it and fired as I came up. 
I swerved aside on a new thought, and made a rapid 
detour among the bushes. Then, raising my pole, I 
crashed down through the undergrowth. There was a 
cry of alann, a shot which went vainly past, and then 
a man broke away. I hurled the heavy pole, and it 
took him in the small of the back. He fell without so 
much as a sound, spread-eagled. The sound of feet in 
flight came out of the bushes. 

I walked over to the man. It was Crashaw, and 
Crashaw, I believe, had fired the fatal. shot at McLeod. 
I left his body as it lay, and went to Carter. 

“ I dunno if I hit anythink, sir,” he remarked. “ But 
I had a try. Poor Tom’s done for.” 

“ Give me one of the guns,” I said, “ and we’U march. 
They will renew the attack if we don’t. We must take 
the boat.” 

We made our way cautiously to the water’s edge, 
where the boat was concealed, and launching her pushed 
off. “ Now — now, as if the devil was after you, as he 
is. Carter,” I said. 


THE FRENCHMAN 


301 


The other boat had receded some fifty yards, and lay 
waiting events. But we were no sooner started than a 
yell informed us that we were discovered. I was scull- 
ing as fast as I could, and Carter’s powerful arms 
aided mine. There was nothing to be done but to take 
the risk. Several shots were fired at us, and one struck 
one of my oars, but we pulled ahead without reply, and 
at last I breathed with relief. We were practically 
out of range of their revolvers, and the Duncannori^s 
other boat stood after us. 

“ All right.? ” I hailed as we drew together. 

“Yes, old boy. Bully for you!” said Marley 
raucously. 

The choppy water joggled us together. I felt 
Ariadne’s hand clasped on mine as I rested a moment. 

“ I thought you were killed when I heard those 
shots,” she said. 

And now Ellicombe transferred two of his men to my 
boat, and we proceeded to pull out to the Duncannon, 
At last we were safe, and on the empty beach the 
mutineers were left to their own despair. 

The first man we met aboard was Digby, greyer in 
face but dignified in manner, who welcomed us after 
his fashion. 

“ Glad to see there’s some honest men left. I’ve got 
these chaps tamed. Stewart, haul away there.” 

“ He blew his whistle, and the remnant of the crew 
responded with alacrity, as if anxious to demonstrate 
their fidelity. 

“ Had a rough time.? ” I asked; and he grunted. 


802 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Great Scott, I’d sooner have been in irons all the 
time than have had our time,” ejaculated Marley. 

“ What’s your luck? ” asked Digby. 

Marley let his gaze go over the company, now all on 
board. “ There’s the answer, old man,” he said. 
« We’ve come down to that.” 

Digby stared. “ Wade ” he said, and seemed to 

calculate. “ McLeod — ^by God ! ” 

“ That’s a real proper comment,” said Marley, with 
a grin. “ We’ve been riddled, old boy, and would have 
been wiped out if it weren’t for these jokers.” 

Digby stiffened sensibly with pride. “ I had some 
trouble in persuading him who I was; but the ship’s 
articles did it. I told him of the meeting. Though 
what the blazes we were after when they caught us up 
is more than I know.” 

“ I think we can get at that,” I said. “ Where’s 
Carvaulx ? ” 

“ Shut himself in his cabin,” said Digby. “ Can’t 
get the beggar to answer.” 

“ Dotty ? ” suggested Marley. 

“ Look here,” said Ellicombe’s voice, “ what’s the 
matter with breakfast? ” 

It was a good idea. We adjourned to the saloon, and 
while we ate we talked. 

“ The men aboard are all right. Quartermaster’s in 
irons,” said Digby, “ and the rest are hke mice. Got 
heads, I suppose.” 

“ I want to know why the tub was set for Nicaragua,” 
said Marley. 


THE FRENCHMAN 


SOS 


“ Harris ! ” I said. “ He’s our man.” 

‘‘ Harris was decent to me all along,” observed Digby. 

The problem obtruded itself, and after we had fed 
more substantially than we had for some days Harris 
was brought aft. 

‘‘ You were interrupted in the middle of an answer, 
my man,” said I. “We want to get at the root of this 
mystery.” 

“ Speak up,” said Marley. 

Harris hesitated. “ What I’d like you to know, sir,” 
he said at last, “ is how I stand.” 

We looked at each other. “ Well, this is a hanging 
business,” growled Marley. “ But we’ve got to get off 
it as easily as we may. Spit it out, and I’ll go bail we’ll 
let you down lightly.” 

Harris glanced at our faces. “ I was agin it from 
the first, sir,” he said. “ But they Dagoes had the 
upper hand, and Mr. Clifford was thick with them. And 
what’s more, they left all of us that was respectable be- 
hind.” 

“ Respectable ! ” growled Marley. 

“ Anyway, sir, there was me and seven more didn’t 
want it, but they forced us in. And the quartermaster 
Edwards, he was left to look after us. But even he was 
mild on it.” 

“ Oh, get along,” said Marley. “ We’ll call it 
square.” 

Halliday was staring feverishly out of grey-blue eyes. 

“ Why did the Duncannon make for Nicaragua ” I 
asked quietly. 


304 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


“ Because the Frenchy wanted it,” he blurted out. 

“ May I be cauterised ! ” said Marley. “ What the 
helPs all this ? ” 

“ He gave us ten pound apiece to do it, sir,” went on 
Harris quickly. “ Said as how you had got Mr. Clifford 
and Crashaw in a tight comer, and that we would all go 
into the dock unless we were careful. Then says he, he 
wanted to go to Nicaragua for help, and that we would 
be pardoned if we did. And he produces ten ten-pound 
notes, and planks ’em down, and says he will give double 
that on reaching Nicaragua. The quartermaster — he 
was flustered-like, and he made up his mind to get up 
steam.” 

“ Phew ! ” Marley whistled. 

‘‘ Hot potatoes ! ” remarked young Ellicombe. 

“ But why Nicaragua.^ ” I asked, puzzled. 

Harris had no answer to this, but seemed to wish to 
impress upon iis the fact that his comrades and himself 
had definitely thrown in their lot with us. 

“ Let’s go and look up the old man,” suggested Mar- 
ley. “ He’ll be able to shed some light on this.” 

But that, it turned out, was impracticable. Ariadne 
had gone to her cabin, and from thence had sought her 
uncle. She came out of his cabin, in answer to our 
knocking, with an anxious face. 

“ Uncle is ill,” she explained. “ He begs not to be 
disturbed just now.” 

“ Rattled ! ” was Marley’s comment. “ All right, 
we’ll postpone it, though I’d dearly like to know some 


more. 


THE FRENCHMAN 


S05 


We had now a melancholy duty, which was to commit 
McLeod’s body to the sea; and it was a solemn office. 
The late mutineers came to heel in an orderly manner, 
and, I think, were gravely impressed by the service. The 
sequels of the mutiny were brought home to them thus 
for the first time, and they were very silent. When the 
shotted body had cloven the water with a splash, Marley 
turned to them where they mustered. 

“ That’s the last of the murdered men,” he said. 
“ Think yourselves lucky that you had no direct part 
in the bloody business, and that we’ve agreed to over- 
look your doings.” 

They dispersed quietly, and we went about our duties 
in a subdued mood. It had been decided that we should 
pick up the treasure early on the following morning, 
and then stand off for Jamaica, where we might lay in- 
formation, and leave the arrest of the mutineers ashore 
to the authorities. The Frenchman still kept his cabin, 
and we were refused admittance. And so evening 
drifted upon us. Ashore the fires of the mutineers’ 
camp were plainly discernible. Ariadne, exhausted from 
the strain of the last days, sought her cabin early ; and 
it happened that Halliday, Marley, Ellicombe, Digby, 
and myself sat up in the saloon talking of the future 
and recalhng the past. 

The saloon was lighted by a dim lamp, and we sat 
about the table, and smoked in a better security than 
we had experienced since the beginning of that tragic 
cruise. 

“ And now,” said Halliday presently, “ I guess we’ve 


306 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


done business, and we’ll get all squared, and you sha’n’t 
be out of pocket by this, Mr. Ellicombe. Let’s talk of 
something for a holiday. What’s the news of the world 
And is there anything about the New York election? ” 

“ I don’t know that there is,” said the young man, 
who plainly took no interest in such pohtics. “ We 
made a pretty smart passage till our gear broke down. 
Russia’s much about the same.” 

“ How’s Rio Unions? ” asked Marley with interest. 

Ellicombe’s blank gaze manifested complete igno- 
rance of those interesting shares and all others. 

“ There was a big fire out Limehouse way,” he re- 
marked. “ Half-a-million, they say. And — oh yes, of 
course, there’s the affaire Carvaulx.^* 

I sat up. “What did you say?” I asked, a sound 
that was familiar ringing in my ears. 

“ Why, the Carvaulx affair in Paris,” he explained. 
“ The banker who bolted.” 

“ Judas ! ” exclaimed Marley. 

We eyed each other. Halliday leaned forward. “ Is 
that C-A-R-V-A-U-L-X? ” he inquired, with glittering 
eyes. 

“ That’s it, I think,” said the youth. “ Made off 
with £100,000, they say. There were branches at Lyons 
and Marseilles and other places, and the whole caboodle 
burst. Thought you would have heard of it before you 
started. He was quite a figure in Paris, and no one 
knows where he’s got to. He was supposed to have gone 
to England, but the last idea was that he had fled to the 
Argentine.” 


THEFRENCHMAN 307 

“ Gad, we’ve got the josser on board! ” cried Marley, 
bringing down his fist on the table. 

As the rattle died away I heard something fall to the 
ground behind me. 

“ What’s that ? ” I asked, and rose. 

Digby rose also. “ I’ll see,” he said, and darted into 
the cabin in my rear. He came back in a few minutes. 
‘‘ Only a book fallen,” he said. “ Tumbled off the wash- 
table. Someone gone on Marie Corelli.” 

“ That’s mine, old man,” said Marley. 

“ ‘ Treasure of Heaven ’ ! ” read Halliday. 

“ Guess it’s treasure of hell we’ve got,” said Marley. 

We laughed shortly, and then stared at each other in 
silence. 

“ This is up against us,” said Halliday at last. 
« We’ve got the identical. What’s to be done.^ There’s 
the girl.” 


CHAPTER XX 


AT THE STAKE 

The situation was astounding, and it was also embar- 
rassing. To us it was even painful, for in Halliday’s 
last words lay the sting, as far as I was concerned. 
There was Ariadne! In the brief space of time that 
intervened between Halliday’s exclamation and the next 
voice, my mind hastily surveyed the past in kaleido- 
scopic pictures. In the light of the revelation by Elli- 
combe, all that had happened and seemed mysterious 
took shape and form. I recalled the wizened figure on 
the pier making nervous interrogations as to the Amer- 
ican liner, the fruitless attempt to secure a passage from 
Wade, the manoeuvre of the wrecked craft, which was, 
of course, not intended to be wrecked as it had been, and 
the subsequent philosophic indifference of M. Carvaulx 
to his surroundings. He had fled on the wings of terror, 
but when he was once out of reach of the law he became 
another man. I was witness to that. Even the haz- 
ards of the mutiny did not affect him, as he reckoned 
himself merely a spectator in that desperate war. 
Why, then, had he bribed the crew of the Duncan- 
non to levant so unexpectedly Ellicombe broke 
silence. 

“ Good Lord, I feel like the Old Bailey,” he said, with 
a laugh. “ It’s hotter and hotter 1 ” 

308 


AT THE STAKE 


S09 


“ Was Carvaulx on deck when you came aboard? ” 
I inquired. 

“ No,” said he. “ As I tell you, the ship was flounder- 
ing about after her tail, and the man at the wheel was 
half-seas over, and old Harry reigned. It was dark as 
they make it, too, and I just knocked the buffer at the 
wheel over and put it in charge of one of my men, and 
having trimmed things up a bit, and seen to the engines, 
I went below to see what was up there, and if there were 
any unfortunate passengers. Then I tumbled up 
against this old shrimp, who stared at me. 

“ ‘ Who are you ? ’ says he in small thin voice, as if 
he’d seen a ghost, but very excited. ‘ What do you 
want ? ’ 

“ ‘ Want? ’ says I. ‘ I want to prevent this bloom- 
ing old hulk from going to the bottom.’ 

“‘You come out of that ship?’ he asked, his eyes 
bulging out at me. 

“ ‘ Fourth officer on R.M.S. Trmidad, at your ser- 
vice,’ I said. 

“ At that he walked off without a word, and took to 
his cabin, and I’ve not seen him since.” 

“ It’s plain now,” I said. “ He took fright when he 
spied you coming up in the offing, and made a bolt for 
it. He aimed at getting to Nicaragua, and losing his 
tracks.” 

“ Damned mean old cuss ! ” declared Marley. 

I was silent ; I knew that this would be bitter 
news for his proud niece, whom he would have de- 
serted, this swindling banker with an honoured name. 


310 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


What then was our duty? Ellicombe refused re- 
sponsibility. 

“ I’ve brought the old tea-pot back,” he said. “ It’s 
your affair now. I’ve nothing to do with it.” 

“ I’m not going to take a hand, either,” said Marley. 

“ I guess it isn’t our affair,” remarked Halliday. 
“ I’ve undertaken to land the man at Baltimore, and I’ll 
carry out my contract. That’s all that’s in it to me.” 

“ No,” I assented, rising. “ We’ve nothing to do 
with it, any of us.” Nevertheless, I knew I had a good 
deal to do with it. “ One thing,” I said, “ no word to 
Miss Sylvester.” 

There was a pause. “ Of course not,” replied Halli- 
day. “ It’s nothing to do with her either.” 

We broke up to retire with this remarkable discovery 
to digest, and I accompanied Marley to his cabin. Op- 
posite was the cabin which had once been poor McLeod’s, 
and now, alas ! stood empty, its door flung wide, its re- 
cesses dark, as if it advertised its emptiness and its 
gloom. 

Marley Kt his lamp, and proceeded to throw off his 
clothes. 

“ First time, my boy, for what seems years,” he ob- 
served, yawning in a complacent and tired manner. 

“ Halloa, hang it all ” He had taken his boots off, 

and was standing peering down. “ Some blighter’s 
emptied a pail of water here,” he said, “and my feet are 
wet through.” 

He looked at the open porthole. “ There’s been no 
sea capable of that,” I said. 


AT THE STAKE 


311 


“ No; it’s some blighter with a pail,” he said. “ Un- 
less Digby upset the jug. Never mind. I’m dead tired. 
We can sleep without alarms and excursions to-night. 
Ta-ta, old chappy ! ” 

As I made off I heard his door close. I too was weary 
and exhausted, and sleep soon found me. 

Ariadne slept well into the morning, and only awoke 
to my knock. I brought her a cup of tea, and inquired 
after her uncle. 

“ He’s not at all well, poor thing,” she explained, 
through the door. “ He was much upset by those hor- 
rible people getting drunk, and stopping him from 
getting help to us. But it’s turned out all right, hasn’t 
it.?” 

No; I was resolved that it should not be I who in- 
formed her of the real facts and of the Frenchman’s 
treachery and crime. We had determined, as you may 
gather, to say nothing to anyone of our discovery, and 
to ignore Carvaulx’s connections with the affaire. But 
we reckoned without Marley’s blunt tongue, as you 
shall see, and that materially affected the course of our 
fortunes. 

It was Marley himself who made confession, not with 
any sense of being in the wrong, but rather with a mild 
sense of injury. Carvaulx made a hesitating appear- 
ance at breakfast, apologised for his absence and ill- 
ness, and made some remarks — regretting his inability 
to have carried out his project of fetching assistance. 
I imagine it was some words of his niece’s that put him 
on. the track of that explanation. But he had a startled 


312 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


and a strained air, as if he did not know how far our 
knowledge went. He was taking a risk, but it had to 
be taken. 

He was treated with civility, and Halliday rose to the 
occasion with a formal speech of thanks, very ironic to 
us, but in a most serious key. That saved the situation 
— for the time. But I have always thought that it was 
Marley’s honest revolt against our studied hypocrisy 
that fired the train. At any rate, an hour or so later, 
he came up to me with an unfinished story. 

“ The old blighter’s bolted into his cabin again,” he 
said. “ Locked himself in.” 

“ What did you say to him? ” I asked suspiciously. 

“ Oh, nothing much. I asked him what price bank 
shares or something, quite lightly, and the old fish 
bolted.” 

“ You’ve given the show away,” I said ; but I could 
say no more, for at that moment a sailor came up to 
report the loss of a boat. It appeared that one of our 
boats had not been shipped, but left trailing by a 
painter in the subsiding sea. This was gone. Marley 
was affected to anger by the news. 

“ Damned rogues, breaking out again ! ” he muttered. 
“ Can’t trust ’em. What the devil are they up to 
now? ” 

The hands were mustered, but no one was missing. 
The loss of the boat was a puzzle ; also, it was a serious 
annoyance. We were still engaged in the discussion of 
its disappearance when the sound of a gun in the dis- 
tance came to us on the wind. It was followed by sev- 


AT THE STAKE 


313 


eral successive shots, and drew our eyes shoreward. 
Marley seized his glasses. 

“ May I be jolly well burned if it isn’t a boat — our 
boat — and someone working out in it,” he cried. The 
enigma was greater than ever. No one was missing, yet 
a boat was gone, and there, coming out to the Duncan- 
non, followed by the fire of the mutineers, was a boat 
rowed by one ndan. We waited, and exchanged specula- 
tions, but no one was near guessing at the wildness of 
the truth. Within a hundred yards of the steamer, for 
which he was making directly, we recognised the rower 
as Byrne — Byrne, the mutineer: 

He came^ aboard to our hail, saying he wanted a 
private interview, and was at once taken down to the 
saloon. He looked at us with his false Irish smile and 
his false bonhomie, 

“ Please remember,” said he, “ that I’ve not been in 
this as much as you think. I’ve stood aloof. It’s been 
others, as I can prove. And I’m sick of it. I want to 
give in, if you’ll take my terms.” 

Marley said caustically : “ And what terms might 
these be, my noble hero.^ ” 

I’ll give you any information you need ; and there’s 
lots you don’t know, if you’ll rule me out of what’s gone 
by.” 

“ I guess there’s lots we don’t know,” said Hal- 
liday thoughtfully; ‘‘but I fancy we’ve got the whip- 
hand.” 

“ That’s why I’m here,” said the double traitor cheer- 
fully. “ We’re beat, and I want to make terms. I 


314 THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 

am in a position to give you something worth your 
while.” 

“ What is that.^ ” I asked. 

Byrne grinned, and winked an eye. “ Where did 
that boat come from.^ ” he said slily. 

“ Yes, you have us there,” I said. “ But there’s 
nothing much in that.” 

“ Look here,” said he. “ I was a fool, but I’m not 
in it up to my neck like Clifford and Davenant. And if 
you’ll let me clear out at the first port. I’ll stand in with 
you.” 

His small eyes searched us anxiously. He had put 
a good face on his bluff, but he was badly scared, I 
knew. We consulted together, and I think it was my 
voice that carried the decision. Marley announced it. 

“ All right,” he said. “ It’s a bargain. Now spit it 
out.” 

Byrne breathed rehef. “Jacko stole the boat,” he 
said quickly. 

“ Impossible ! A good clear mile ! ” declared Halli- 
day. 

‘‘ Oh, he can swim like a porpoise. It’s like a native 
element to him ; and he swam out last night in the dark, 
and crept aboard.” 

“ By gum ! ” ej aculated Marley. “ He’s a caution I ” 

“ Oh, there’s a trifle more hanging on it,” pursued 
Byrne smoothly, now at ease. “ He hid in one of the 
cabins, and overheard your talk in the saloon.” 

I jumped up. “ Marley ’s cabin ! ” I cried. “ Great 
Scott! The pool of water on the floor.” 


AT THE STAKE 


315 


“ By gosh, you’re right, old man,” said Marley. 
‘‘ Snakes, what a caution ! ” 

Byrne looked from one to another of us. “ Well, he 
cleared out with the boat and his news,” he resumed. 

“ What news ? ” I asked, wondering. 

“ Why, that you’ve got an interesting criminal 
aboard,” said Byrne, with his greedy little eyes twin- 
kling. “ And he’s going off on a new tack. The treas- 
ure’s off, but there’s a lot of oof sticking out yet, he 
says. And that’s the Frenchman.” 

“ Do you mean,” inquired Halliday, “ that he designs 
to rob Carvaulx.'^ ” 

“ That’s his ticket,” said Byrne. ‘‘ And the boat was 
the first step. He reckoned we were well enough armed 
and numerous enough for a good shot at you. This 
was his notion, d’ye see.? We were to pull out to an at- 
tack, and if we were successful we should have the ship 
and the Frenchman’s money. He’s got £100,000, ac- 
cording to Clifford; and I reckon he has got something 
the way he bought these men on board. That was 
Jacko’s plan, but I didn’t cotton to it. I was tired of 
things. T’others took it up, but I had my bellyful, and 
I’ve never been in it more than up to my knees, so to 
speak.” 

So he said, but I, for one, did not believe him, and I 
could have put a good reason on his treachery. He had 
come to the conclusion that the game was up, and 
thought to get out as lightly as possible. This was only 
practicable early in the final scenes, when we might 
have some need for him. In effect, he turned “ king’s 


316 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


evidence.” We naturally experienced an aversion for 
the man, which it was difficult to hide ; but he was quite 
unembarrassed and shameless, offering a joke here or a 
jibe there, as the chance came. I think that, having 
made his position secure, he had rather a contempt for 
us, and viewed us as some queer creatures whom he was 
bound to serve for a while, and would dismiss with un- 
disguised laughter. He was chatty and friendly, and 
entertained us with anecdotes of his former associates, 
despite the cold shoulder we gave him. He enlarged, 
among other things, upon Clifford, for whom he pos- 
sessed an evident admiration. 

“ Davenant had the idea first,” he told us amicably, 
“ but he wouldn’t have had the force to carry it through 
liimself. He’s too much of a gentleman.” 

“ Gentleman ! ” growled Marley. 

“ Oh, he’s a clever dog, is Davenant, but a bit high- 
strung ; sort of schoolmaster. That’s what he was once, 
they say. But, holy powers, he’s hard as a wall when it 
comes to the crisis, and there’s nothing he would stop 
at, as far as scruples go. That’s Jacko too. God 
knows what Jacko was — picked up a living as a Bodega 
bucket-shop sharp, or something like that. You’ve seen 
him at a bottle. I believe he can do more with a bottle 
than any other man. He carried his liquor well, too, 
only that he talked too much. His nature was to be 
frank and bluff, and tell it out, and fight the odds. But 
he’s shrewd as Satan, and common as dirt. And when 
Davenant made the suggestion, Clifford hopped on to 
it ; and waddled on with it, and stuck to it, and worried 


AT THE STAKE 


317 


it, and bossed all the others into it.” He interrupted 
his narrative to cast a glance at Marley. “ He wouldn’t 
have you in, anyhow. Said you might walk your own 
sanguinary plank by yourself, and he wasn’t going to 
have two pirate kings. He laughed over it. I tell you, 
Jacko’s a devil. But I thought it was all a joke. I’ll 
swear I never thought we were going to have bloodshed. 
I joined to bring pressure to bear on HalHday to ease 
the contract up.” 

None of us believed him, but we let him go. What he 
was telling us was interesting in our present circum- 
stances. 

“ There was a tough lot aboard,” he resumed. “ Some 
of ’em were Dagoes, and some from the Levant, and 
there was some from Frisco blood-boats. They didn’t 
much want to come over to the plot. Clifford was the 
only one who could manage them, and he did it with a 
free tongue and a free bottle. Crashaw was damn use- 
ful to him, though. Crashaw knew the sailor business. 
And he got hold of Heaven from the start, Jacko did. 
Heaven came in useful as a go-between.” 

He paused, as if to read our faces. And so it all 
ends this way,” said I. 

“ They badly wanted you out of the way,” he said, 
turning to me. “ They tried hard too, and thought 
they’d fixed it up when they laid for you, using the girl 
as bait. Davenant worked that from your camp. 
There’s where his cleverness comes in. You’d have sus- 
pected Jacko in half-an-hour. His tongue was always 
wagging. But Davenant could keep a secret. He was 


318 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


in communication with Clifford all the time. It was he 
stole the chart. McLeod was only induced to take the 
key for a lark, and so put you off the scent.” 

“ The treacherous hound ! ” exclaimed Marley. 

“ How did you get away.^ ” I asked Byrne. 

He looked sly. “ Well, I agreed with Clifford that 
it was a good scheme, and we were to work it out well. 
And then I took French leave.” 

I could have echoed Marley’s expression here, but 
none of us made any comment. 

“ You were pursued ” I asked. 

He nodded. “ They got wind sooner than I expected, 
and came pretty near bagging me too.” He glanced 
at his sleeve, which was torn with the passage of a 
bullet. The man was no coward, traitor as he 
was. 

Just then there came a knock on the door, and EUi- 
combe entered abruptly. 

“ Look here, I suppose you’re in charge now, Mr. 
Marley, and so I’ve come to report. I can’t get my 
soundings in all this blessed business.” He eyed Byrne 
doubtfully. “ Anyway, you may as well know that the 
old man is on his way to the island.” 

“ What the devil ! ” cried Marley. “ The French- 
man! Great Scott I Who Has he ” 

“ He’s taken this gentleman’s boat, and a couple of 
sailors. I guess this is too crooked for me. I want 
to go home to my mammy. A common or garden 
conundrum’s good enough for me.” 

We all made for the deck, and our eyes alighted on 


AT THE STAKE 319 

the boat two hundred yards away, rolling rapidly under 
a lug-sail in the direction of the island. 

“ Good Lord, he’s running on his fate. They won’t 
make two bits of him,” cried Marley. 

“ This is the sequel of your interview with him,” I 
told him. “ He took alarm, and is off again.” 

‘‘ It’s the frying-pan and the fire,” said Marley. “ I 
wasn’t going to put my hands on the blighter. He’s 
bribed those curs again.” 

“We can’t let him go at that. We must save him 
from absolute murder,” I urged. 

Marley frowned. “ We’ll get into some trouble 
again,” he said. “ I don’t like it. We were quit of 
everything here, and this means raising trouble for us.” 

“ What does it mean, Mr. Marley ? ” asked a voice 
behind us. “ Where is my uncle going Oh, he mustn’t 
go back to the island.” 

Marley and I, exchanging a glance, fell away for 
Ariadne to pass between us to the bulwarks. 

“ We don’t quite know — no, of course, he mustn’t,” 
said Marley awkwardly. 

“You must send after him and warn him of his dan- 
ger,” she persisted. 

I put my hand on her arm. “ He shall be overtaken, 
dear,” I said. “ We have only just learned that he had 
set out.” 

Marley was at that moment giving hoarse orders for 
a boat to be lowered and manned. The receding French- 
man was fast vanishing over the restless sea of broken 
water. The Duncannon herself was rolling to her 


sw 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


anchor in the increasing wind. The sky was dark north- 
ward, and the characteristic rocks of the Pulpit showed 
clear against a lurid background. 

“ We’re in for dirty weather, I believe,” grumbled 
Digby. “ We can’t afford risks for an old scoundrel 
like that.” 

Ariadne did not hear. She was engaged in watching 
the operation of manning the boat. The wind whistled 
in the sheets above. I pressed her arm. 

“ Could uncle be going about the treasure ” she said 
to me suddenly. 

“ Treasure ! ” I exclaimed, not understanding. 

“ Yes ; when I told him he was astonished.” 

“ You told him ! ” I echoed. 

“ Yes, of course,” she said simply ; “ and he was so 
much interested in our adventures, in spite of the shock 
he had had.” 

“ Did you — did he know exactly where it was ? ” I 
asked after a pause in a voice I could not keep quite 
even. 

“ I told him about the palm-trees,” answered Ariadne. 
“ But why ? Oughtn’t I to have ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s of no account,” I said easily as I turned 
away, for she must not know the real character of her 
uncle — at least not yet. But I was vaguely discon- 
certed. I had been convinced that the Frenchman had 
taken flight in a panic on discovering that his identity 
was known; but was it possible that the knowledge of 
the treasure had actuated him ? It did not seem credible, 
and yet I wondered. It was just that doubt and that 


AT THE STAKE 


321 


wonder that induced me to join the company in the 
boat. 

We were a party of five, which included Ellicombe, 
two of his hands, an ex-mutineer, and myself; and we 
set out on a rising sun in the heat of the morning, all 
armed. 

The young mate had entered into the spirit of the 
adventure, and was agog for action. Under his direc- 
tion we laid a course for the cove, judging that Car- 
vaulx would choose to land away from the mutineers. 
His boat was nowhere in sight, for the brisk wind had 
carried them fast to their destination, but as they had 
vanished round the bluff, it seemed certain that our 
conjecture was right. Our boat also took the wind 
splendidly, and we rode into the shelter of the shore at 
a gallop. 

And here for the first time it was possible to read the 
real explanation of the flight; for the boat had been 
drawn up roughly above the wash of the high tides, but 
there had been no attempt to conceal it. Carvaulx had 
landed, and continued his flight in a hurry. He fled in 
a panic, and he fled from us. There was no mistaking 
this, as we traced his course by broken branches through 
the bushes and lost it up the hillside. He was a fugitive, 
and in his eyes we stood for the terrors of the law. 

We took counsel together, and decided to strike 
through the island by way of the central ridge which 
culminated in the Devil’s Pulpit. Ellicombe’s two 
sailors were left in charge of our boat, while the Dun- 
cannon deckhand, whose name was Perry, accompanied 


322 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


EUicombe and myself on our voyage of discovery. We 
climbed the hill, and for some time moved in the shadow 
of the woods that crowned the ridge. But we heard 
nothing and saw nothing, nor did there appear to be 
any chance of finding the Frenchman. 

‘‘ Might as well look for a needle in a haystack,” as 
EUicombe truthfully but unoriginally put it. 

“ There’s one thing we might do,” said I; “in fact, 
we have two alternatives now.” 

“ What are they.^^ ” he inquired. 

“ We can make for the place where the treasure is 
hidden on the chance; or we can reconnoitre the muti- 
neers. If they haven’t got him it will be all to the good, 
and we can find that out.” 

“ You mean,” he asked, “ go down to the seashore.'^ ” 
I nodded. “ Yes ; that’s about all that’s left,” he 
assented. “ Let’s get.” 

We resumed our way, but now slantwise, towards the 
lower country. EUicombe had grown more cheerful. 

“ I shouldn’t mind a scrap with those friends of 
yours,” he said, having in his excitement forgotten to 
think of his conundrums. There was a plain issue 
now. 

“You have a good chance,” I replied drily; for my 
part, I had had more than enough of bloodshed and 
trouble, and I could have put up with a drawing-room 
better. Moreover, I was not done with conundrums, 
and I was puzzling at one then. In pursuit of it, I 
spoke to Perry, the ex-mutineer. “ Who was it went 
with the Frenchman ? ” 


AT THE STAKE 


S2S 


“ Oburg, sir,” he answered. “We thought as how 
they had orders.” 

“ Well, Oburg didn’t think so, anyway,” said I. 

Yet what madness could have induced this man to 
break with us a second time when the plight of the 
mutineers was so evil that Byrne himself had deserted 
them.? Would a man be so reckless as to fling himself 
ashore for so much money.? Oburg could not know of 
Carvaulx’s identity, nor of the large sum he was re- 
puted to carry with him. At that point of my reflec- 
tions it occurred to me that we had been very dull. 

“ Ellicombe,” I said, “ I’m a fool, and you’re not 
much better. This man thinks he has nothing to fear 
from Clifford’s gang, since he does not guess that they 
know who he is and what he’s got. On the contrary, 
events have proved that he is mightily afraid of us. He 
saw us put off after him, and believes us to be in pursuit. 
I’ll lay two to one he’s sought the protection of the 
mutineers.” 

“ That looks all right,” he agreed. “ I wish we could 
get at ’em.” 

Well, we had not very long to wait for an opening, 
though as you shall hear, we did not then “ get at 
them,” owing to an amazing discovery. We were half- 
way to the beach when on a knoll above the level of the 
surrounding forest we caught sight of the smoke of a 
distant fire. 

“ Eureka ! ” I said ; and Ellicombe pulled his belt 
tighter and examined his revolver. 

We directed our course towards the smoke, and after 


324 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


twenty minutes rough walking came within the area of 
human voices. They were raised in anger or in merri- 
ment — we could not say which — and rose from an inner 
ring of trees and bushes. We pushed forward care- 
fully, prepared for any emergency. Just then a shriek 
pierced the clear air of noon, and sent us forward post- 
haste ; for it was surely the shriek of someone in mortal 
agony. 

The human noises became louder, and I could hear 
hoarse laughter; and then, peering through the bushes, 
I looked upon a scene which struck me with horror and 
dismay. 

In a small clearing a fire had been lighted, and round 
it were the remnants of the gang watching the struggles 
of a small figure roped to a stake. The stake had been 
my penalty; the stake was the Frenchman’s, but in a 
much more terrible way. The unfortunate man had 
been secured by ankles and wrists, and was throwing 
himself this way and that in a vain endeavour to obtain 
his release. These frantic gymnastics invited the ribald 
laughter of his captors, who hurled at him obscene and 
vacant jests from the circle of their audience. Beside 
him stood two men, and one of them was Clifford, while 
the other I recognised as a big foreigner who had been 
foremost in the mutiny and the fighting. A little way 
off was Davenant, stripped of some of his neatness of 
attire, but cool and collected as usual. He appeared to 
be directing the operations of torture. “ Turn him this 
way,” he called in his soft penetrating voice. ‘‘ I think 
the wood’s hot enough now.” 


AT THE STAKE 


S25 


To my horror I saw the foreigner go to the fire, pick 
out a blazing stick, and thrust it forward at the old 
man. Ellicombe, at my elbow, swore and levelled his 
revolver. I seized his arm. 

“Wait!” I said, for we should do no good to Car- 
vaulx or* to ourselves by precipitate action. “We must 
get the other side.” 

He edged away as I spoke, and I was relieved to see 
the foreigner lower his burning stick. 

“ Own up, uncle,” called out Clifford. “ Where’s the 
loot.? ” 

“ I assure you, monsieur,” gasped the Frenchman, 
“ I have it not. There is no notes left, or ver’ little ; 
and that is on board.” 

“ Give it him again, Brutus,” said Clifford; and the 
giant advanced with his instrument of torture. 

By this we had got a dozen paces away, and were 
stealing towards the knot of mutineers by the fire, a 
low line of bushes separating us. 

The Frenchman screamed, and my blood sang in my 
head, but I was not ready yet. 

“ Now spit it out ! ” said Clifford. “ Where’s it 
buried ? ” 

The Frenchman gulped. “ If you will allow me,” he 
said with pitiful civility, “ I will explain. I ’ad bank 
notes when I came aboard, but they are few now, and I 
’ave left them, because I ’ave this new plan for you.” 

Davenant said something in his low voice which I 
could not hear, and the ruffian heated his instrument 
afresh. “ It is the treasure 1 ” screamed Carvaulx, in 


326 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


terror at the approaching ordeal. “ I know where the 
treasure is. It is concealed elsewhere. See, that man — 
he knows ! ” 

There was a pause. Davenant called out, and Oburg, 
looking sheepish and rather white, came out of the knot. 

“ What’s all this rubbish? ” asked Davenant. 

“ Oh, he talked of knowing where the treasure is,” 
mumbled Oburg. “ That’s why I brought him along. 
But I didn’t know he was wanted, and had this money.” 

“ Oh, chuck it, Davenant,” said Clifford. “ Here, 
give me the dagger.” And seizing the brand he waddled 
forward to his miserable victim. A succession of shrieks 
followed. 

“ When I count three,” I whispered to Ellicombe and 
Perry. 

“Wait a bit! Hold on!” called out Davenant, who 
had been talking with Oburg. “ Don’t be too much in 
a hurry, Clifford. Here, you’ll have the beggar off in 
a faint.” 

He stooped and examined the Frenchman. 

Ellicombe looked at me inquiringly, but I made no 
sign. 

“ I will swear on oath, sir,” the wretched banker was 
pleading. “ My niece tell me she has seen the chests, 
and I make her describe it. Why you think I come 
ashore to you, if not to place the secret in your hands? 
See you, there is no chance for you but to take the ship. 
Then there is the treasure. If I give it you, you land 
me somewhere safe. It is not good for either you or 
me to be heard of, eh? ” 


ATTHESTAKE 327 

“ I say, this looks a bit of all right,” remarked 
Clifford. 

I bribe this man, Oburg, to come with me. I tell 
him of the treasure. But you do not give me time when 
you seize. Messieurs, you may do what you will with 
me if it fail.” 

“ Damn it, that’s a fair offer,” said Clifford, drop- 
ping his brand. 

A movement suddenly dissolved the knot of mutineers, 
who trickled towards the stake. 

“ Here, you, cut that rope, will you,” commanded 
Clifford. “ The old man shall have a run for his money.” 

I lowered my arm. “ We’re not wanted,” said I drily 
to Ellicombe. “ I guess you won’t get that scrap.” 

“ Not yet,” he said thoughtfully. “ But I’m not 
giving up hopes.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 

No, we’re not wanted here, but we are badly wanted 
somewhere else,” I said. “ Look here, Ellicombe, we’ve 
got to act in a hurry. They’re going to gamble on 
this.” 

“ Certain sure,” said he. 

“ Then there’s no time to be lost. The old man has 
given us away. Let me have Perry here, and I’ll make 
tracks and forestall them. You’d best go back to the 
Duncannon, and up-steam. We must have the ship 
round t’other side in case of emergencies. See here. 
I’ll chalk it roughly for you.” And as weU as I could 
I indicated where the headland rose, to mark the site of 
the treasure. 

He was quick to understand, and smart enough to 
take action. 

“ Sorry not to have had my whack,” he remarked as 
he moved off. 

“ I think I can promise you it yet,” I answered. The 
bushes parted, and he was gone. Left to ourselves. 
Perry and I struck out through the wood in the direc- 
tion of our old camp, for I had reason for calling there. 
It was much as we had left it, looking desolate and 
tragic in its silence, under the gloom of the overhanging 
precipice. Here I found what had brought me — a pick- 
828 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


329 


axe, and also the coils of rope which the mutineers had 
intended for the removal of the chests. These were 
thrown about recklessly, as abandoned in the rage and 
consternation which had broken out on the discovery 
that the chests were empty. For that was the simple 
explanation of the mutineers’ disappointment, as the 
sprawling chests proved. They had been got down 
with difficulty, only to be found bare of their former 
contents. Part of the hoard had been used, and for 
some reason in the past, the balance had been removed 
to a safer or more accessible hiding-place. No one 
would probably ever know why, or what hazards, if 
any, had threatened the treasure. One of the former 
proprietors, if I may use the term, had found it expedi- 
ent to reconceal the hoard, and to leave word for his 
partner — Jake. And Jake had long since passed into 
the dust of some distant land. 

These ropes were going to be useful to me. Indeed, 
until I had thought of them, I had been in a sad state 
of anxiety. Now, distributing our burden between Perry 
and myself, I set out to cross the ridge to the north 
in a cheerful spirit. 

We made good speed, and reached the promontory by 
a forced march, if I may put it in that way. Of course, 
we had this advantage over the mutineers, that they 
had only Carvaulx’s indefinite information to go upon, 
and his was merely derived at second-hand from a 
woman. Dear Ariadne! I could have wagered that 
she had not been very explicit in her directions; for 
what woman has a sense of locality. Therefore I was 


330 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


encouraged to hope that it would be some considerable 
time before Clifford’s gang should blunder on the palms. 

No sooner had we arrived than we set to work, with- 
out waiting to rest. A refreshment of cool water from 
a bubbling stream was all that we had, for we had no 
provisions with us. I was glad to approve of Perry, 
who had an open face and frank weak eyes. I did not 
think that he had been a mutineer of his own initiative. 
He had been probably constrained into this plot. All 
the same, I took precautions to secure him to our party. 

“ Perry,” I said, “ if you act square and faithfully 
in this business, it will be worth your while. I’ll see that 
Mr. Halliday isn’t ungrateful. You’ve been pardoned 
your part in the mutiny. Now see if you can earn 
something actively for yourself.” 

“ I’m with you, sir,” he said heartily. “ I never was 
really with them scum, only I hadn’t no choice the way 
they put it. Is this where we dig, sir ? ” 

He set about his task with alacrity, wielding the pick- 
axe as if he loved it, and soon the earth was broken 
and lay loose within the circle of the six palms. It 
was my part to follow up his track, and scoop out the 
dirt, laying bare the chests. Seven they were in num- 
ber, and as each was discovered to the light. Perry’s 
energy increased. I think he would have gone on dig- 
ging all day without asking for rehef, so excited was 
he. But soon his work underwent a change. We had 
found the chests, and must now transport them. This 
was where my ropes were necessary. 

I went to the verge of the cliff, from which, you will 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


331 


remember, Ariadne and I had peered down Into the 
depths, and below was the sea breaking white on a little 
white beach. It was a sheer descent of, as I have said, 
more than two hundred feet. I secured one end of my 
rope to a stunted tree some ten feet from the edge of 
the precipice, and then, having with Perry’s assistance 
arduously dragged one of the chests up to the verge, 
fastened it in a cradle of ropes, and lowered it slowly. 
The strain on us both was great, but we had the stunted 
tree to break it, and foot by foot we payed out, until 
the sudden slackening of the rope acquainted us that 
our craft had anchored on the beach. I went and peered 
over. Yes, it had arrived safely; and now we must 
scramble down to release our rope, and repeat the opera- 
tion with the other chests. It was laborious work, and 
we strained and sweated at it for nearly two hours, 
keeping an alert watch on our rear, and an eye also 
seaward, where the Duncannon might be expected to 
appear. By this time the wind had gathered into half 
a gale, and I was afraid that the steamer might not be 
able to risk putting in close enough to the shore for our 
purpose. Our work, however, absorbed all our energies 
and prevented anxious thoughts. 

It was during Perry’s absence that I had my first 
news of the mutineers. He had taken his turn to go 
down the hill by our circuitous route to the beach in 
order to release the rope, and I was awaiting his return 
on the cliff, with the seventh chest by my side. Suddenly 
my faithful ear gave me warning. Voices emerged 
from the scrub at my back. I drew my revolver, and 


SS2 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


then, face to face with cold reason, put it back, and 
crept away into the bushes on the dechvity upon the 
other side. It would be mere suicide to make a stand 
in the open against all those armed, desperate, and 
greedy men. So I lay low, and kept watch. A few 
minutes later Clifford came out of the scrub, followed 
by Davenant; and after him came the Frenchman, a 
miserable figure of exhausted senility. 

“ By Moses ! ” said Clifford loudly, “ I believe the 
beggar’s straight after all. What’s that.^ ” 

He waved a hand towards the palms, and the two 
ruffians broke into a lumbering run. They got up to 
the circle of palms, and then a cry of fury burst from 
them, as they surveyed the loose earth, and realised that 
they had been anticipated. In my hiding-place I 
watched them with anxious interest ; but I had no fears 
now I saw them to be only two, though I had no time to 
guess at what had become of the others. They stood 
discussing the situation for some time, and then Clifford 
came towards the bushes where I lay. 

“ That’s been done during the last hour or two,” he 
said. “ I’ll lay they’re not far off.” 

Davenant, staring at the earth, suddenly called out; 
he had caught sight of the tracks made by the chests as 
we dragged them to the cliff-top. Clifford turned at 
his cry, and what he saw was Davenant moving quickly, 
with his eyes to the ground, towards the cliff. Then, I 
think, both of them discovered the chest on the edge of 
the cliff simultaneously. All I know is that both began 
to run for it at the same moment. They arrived almost 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


S33 


together, but Clifford a little behind his companion. I 
was aware that somehow they had wrenched open the iid, 
and were talking volubly and with excitement ; and then 
the next moment they were struggling together — strug- 
gling over the chest which stood on the edge of the cliff. 

It was all over in a few moments. One struck the 
other full in the face, and he went back on the coffer; 
it overbalanced, and, without a sound, man and chest 
disappeared over the cliff. 

From below presently came a faint sound as of a 
distant explosion. The man remaining on the cliff 
peered over. It was Clifford. Then he drew back from 
the edge, and I could see his body heaving with his 
laboured breathing. Davenant had gone to death with 
the treasure for which he had sold his soul; and what 
thoughts occupied the survivor and leader of that crim- 
inal gang.^ Did he think he had at last the gold at his 
mercy.? I knew not, but I think even he was a little 
shaken. After a little he took out of his pocket a cigar 
and lighted it as he stood there, resting on the branches 
of the stunted tree, and recovering. 

I crept away, leaving him there, for in the distance, 
round a point of the island, I described the nose of a 
vessel, slowly pushing into the drama. 

Clifford must know that we had removed the chests 
over the cliff ; there was the rope to tell him everything. 
He must also know that we were close by, for our task 
had not been completed. What he did not know was 
our numbers. The Duncannon was arriving in the nick 
of time, if he should be reinforced by his adherents. 


S34 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


Where were they? I hurried down to interrupt Perry, 
who was doubtless on his way up, and as I hastened I 
meditated on many things. 

Halfway down I heard a noise among the bushes, 
and, thinking this was Perry, I hailed him. There 
was no answer; but the sound increased, as of one 
struggling through the undergrowth. I pushed for- 
ward, and gaining the open, saw before me the small 
figure of the Frenchman running as fast as his short 
legs and tired body could carry him. I called to him. 

“ M. Carvaulx ! A friend ! ” 

But he only made an attempt to accelerate his pace, 
and get away from me. He ran, a terrified, desperate 
animal escaping from the hunter, his hands waving 
wildly in his panic. I hailed him again, to reassure 
him. But he paid no heed, and then suddenly tripped 
on a snag in the grass, and fell limply forward on his 
face. 

When I reached him I found he was insensible, as his 
head had struck the stump of a tree. I lifted him up, 
and looked about for water, and was relieved to see 
Perry’s face peeping through the branches. 

“ Come and help me,” I called ; “ this wretched crea- 
ture’s unconscious. We can’t in mercy abandon him, 
though, God knows, he has deserved it.” 

While he was assisting me I explained what had hap- 
pened, of which he was ignorant; and I rapidly out- 
lined my plan. We were to get back to the beach where 
the chests lay, and signal to the steamer. Meanwhile, 
the Frenchman remained unconscious, and so, lifting up 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


335 


the meagre body, I set out, with him over my shoulder. 
Down we went, slowly now, owing to my burden, till at 
last we got to the sea, and turning the promontory, we 
perceived the steamer a mile away, with her bows on for 
the island. When we got to the white beach, I laid the 
insensible man by the water’s edge, and we turned our 
attention to the chests. The strand of shivered shell 
was strewn with coins and jewels from the broken chest, 
and in a horrid heap amid the wreckage lay the mangled 
body of Davenant, that arch-traitor. 

It was a sickly sight, from which I turned away as 
soon as was practicable. We pushed the chests towards 
the water one by one; and while we were engaged on 
this, Clifford made his appearance. 

He came round the promontory deliberately, and at 
a slow walk, as of one who was reconnoitring ; and when 
he saw us he halted fifty paces away. 

“ It’s you, is it, by G ? ” he called, with an 

obscene oath. 

I’ll give you fifty seconds to round that point, 
Clifford,” I replied; “ otherwise you’re a dead man.” 

We both had our revolvers on him, and after a 
moment he turned and went back. I sent Perry forward 
to stand sentry at the point, and I went on with my 
preparations. I collected what driftwood I could, and 
made a fire on the beach, which was designed to attract 
the attention of the Duncannon. It must have been 
burning for half-an-hour, when I noticed the steamer 
swing about, as if she was riding to her anchor ; and 
presently a boat put off. She was then half-a-mile 


336 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


away, and against the black heaven of the north figures 
were visible on her deck. Then I recollected the French- 
man, and I went to where I had left him. He was not 
there. 

He must have come to himself, and, once more, actu- 
ated by his panic, have crept away, and got round the 
farther point, on the other side from Perry. But I 
had no time to consider him, for at that moment a bullet 
took the air with a whizz near me, and flattened on a 
stone. I looked about at Perry on silent sentry-work, 
and then up, and discerned a figure on the cliff. It was 
Clifford, who, headed off our flanks, had attacked us in 
the rear. He blazed away until I sought the shelter of 
the cliff, from which I watched the cautious approach 
of the ship’s boat. It paused within a hundred yards, 
and I hailed it. 

“It’s Herapath! Stand in,” I called, “but mind 
your eye. Clifford’s shooting from the cliff.” 

Marley, who was in charge, gave some directions, and 
the boat drew nearer, and grounded heavily. Clifford’s 
pistol rang out again. 

“ Hurry up,” I said ; “ he’s a dangerous devil, and 
he’ll get one of you, if only out of spite.” 

But there was silence after that, and I hoped that he 
had exhausted his ammunition. Marley leapt ashore. 

“ Great Scott ! ” he said. “ Glad to see you alive, 
old man. I reckoned you’d bit off too much when Elli- 
combe told me.” 

I hurriedly explained the situation, and he nodded. 

“ Halliday, here’s your bank,” he called out in his 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


S37 


own way ; and he pointed at the chests. “ Gad, this is 
better than shares in a gold mine.” He accompanied 
me to the chests, while Halliday painfully scrambled 
ashore. 

“ Look at that poor devil ! ” he said, indicating 
Davenant’s body with an index finger. “ Yet, I sup- 
pose, it’s his proper pay.” 

This was no occasion for regrets or for more explana- 
tions than were absolutely necessary ; and we began the 
shipment of the chests at once. 

A strange silence prevailed from the cliff ; but the 
noise of the sea with the bluster of the wind grew 
greater, so that presently we had to shout at each 
other. We loaded up the boat with three of the chests, 
and she was headed for the steamer, but as the gale was 
rising from the north, she made progress only at a 
snail’s pace; and those of us who remained on shore 
watched her with impatience. It was more than an 
hour ere she returned, and we began to load up again. 
The noises increased; and, away at sea, the steamer 
seemed to be trying to signal to us. Marley had gone 
back with the boat ; and I was afraid that he feared the 
gale, and wished to hurry us up. However, the second 
load was at last shipped, and once more the boat put 
out in increasing difficulties. 

When she returned she contained Ellicombe. 

“ Herapath,” he called, “ we must let the rest go to 
Hades. She won’t ride at anchor longer in this gale, 
and there’s a boat put in round the point.” 

“ A boat ! ” Then this explained the mystery of the 


338 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


remaining mutineers. They had come round the island 
in Carvaulx’s boat from the cove. 

“ Yes ; but HaUiday’s keen about this last load. Have 
you got her ready ? Quick along ! ” 

The chest which had carried Davenant to his doom 
had been smashed to fragments, but we had garnered 
the contents of gold and silver and precious stones into 
heaps, and the task of transferring these to the boat 
began. Ellicombe displayed a growing restlessness. 

He was standing on the shore, with a frowning look 
at the darkening sky, when his gaze suddenly shifted 
and lightened. 

“ Here they are, by George ! ” he cried ; and follow- 
ing his eyes, I saw rounding the point, and blundering 
on the turbulent water, a boat. 

‘‘ All aboard ! ” I called. ‘‘ Leave the treasure. We’ll 
have enough on our hands as it is. I’m dead sick 
of it.” 

The men stayed in their work, gazed at the oncoming 
boat, and then made a rush to get aboard. Ellicombe 
was already in the bow, and was loading his revolver. 
The mutineers came on the full tide with the wind 
behind them, and were on us almost before we got 
our sail set. 

Let’s have this out, Herapath,” shouted Ellicombe. 

“ No, I’ll be d d if I’ll have any more bloodshed,” 

I cried back. “ Lay her over. Carter.” 

The man obeyed, and with taut canvas, the boat 
heeled over, and began to lurch out at an angle of forty- 
five degrees to the course of the mutineers. 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


339 


Bang! went a gun from their boat, and one of my 
men uttered an ejaculation. Ellicombe, still standing, 
replied with his weapon. 

“ Sit down ! Cover ! ” I shouted, but he paid no 
heed. 

“ You promised me my scrap ! ” he called back, and 
fired again. 

The mutineers were endeavouring to put round on our 
course, but we had gathered momentum, and she was 
riding fast across the swell. There was a report, and 
Ellicombe tumbled against the mast and fell over 
me. 

“ You infernal duffer, you’ve got it now,” I said, 
picking him up. 

“ It was worth it,” he panted. “ I wish I’d had an- 
other go. I bagged one. By gosh, my shoulder 
aches.” 

I laid him down; and then the blackness which had 
been gradually overarching the sky fell upon us, and at 
the same time the rain began. 

It was nearly pitch dark. Nothing could be seen on 
the horizon; the steamer had vanished in the mist of 
rain ; and only the black drops falling were visible, beat- 
ing up blacker drops from the foaming water. The 
boat plunged into the welter of foam and spurn, and we 
headed out in what we imagined to be the direction of 
the Duncannon, The wind was whipping round our 
ears like a tornado, but we kept her on a tight course for 
some minutes, and then tacked. This manoeuvre, I cal- 
culated, would bring us into the neighbourhood of the 


340 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


steamer. Nothing was to be seen or heard of the 
mutineers. 

At the end of quarter of an hour Ellicombe, who had 
propped himself against the masts, called out : 

“ Port, port ! She’s yonder ! ” 

His practised eyes had served him well, although she 
was not where I had expected to find her; for the loom 
of the tramp emerged from the veil of mist on our left. 
I supported myself by the mast, and yelled through 
the discord of the elements. Our new direction gave 
us more wind, and the hull of the steamer was now 
distinctly visible. 

“ Steady ; put her round ! ” said young Ellicombe as 
we came up with our nose pointed full on her; and we 
swung about on a huge wave towards the steamer. 
Figures were looking at us from the deck, and some- 
one flung out a rope, which we secured with difficulty. 
Then we entered upon the painful and anxious task of 
getting alongside. The steamer had way on her, which 
explained her new situation, and which also enabled her 
to assist in our manoeuvres. So that shortly we were 
bumping alongside, and able to gain the deck. 

Marley met me. “ I’d given you up, old man. I 
had to cut loose and get up steam, for she was dragging 
like the devil. Say, this is a mucky night.” 

It was all over then, and we were safe; and I at least 
did not regret that we had left upon the shore that 
last chest of treasure, which had taken its share in the 
cost of lives, and was stained with Davenant’s blood. 
Let it rest and rot there till the crack of doom ! 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


341 


I had had no food since morning, and was faint with 
my exertions ; and so I went below and obtained 
some necessary refreshment. But first I asked after 
Ariadne. 

“ Miss Sylvester’s all right,” said Halliday, with a 
significant look. “ She’s been asking about you all 
day.” 

I met her at the foot of the saloon stairs, for she had 
been sent below when the gale burst, and she put her 
arms round my wet neck, and cried and laughed. 

“ And, oh ! Poor uncle ! Where is he? ” she asked. 

I could give her no hope. I only pressed her to me. 
Not yet should she know all the truth. She sat by me 
as I ate, and talked as well as was possible in the noise 
of the sea and wind. But presently the tramp of feet 
shook the deck above, and there was a confusion of 
voices. Was there danger? I begged her to be brave, 
and staggered up the companionway. Blinding sheets 
of rain assailed me as I did so, and the tramp rocked 
and groaned. I was tumbled, rather than ran, to the 
side, and looked over. The darkness was not so deep 
now, as a certain twilight lightened the mist. And, to 
my amazement, I perceived alongside the outlines of 
a boat. 

‘‘ Marley ! ” shouted a voice which I knew as Clif- 
ford’s. “ We’ve got a passenger for you. Lcower a 
ladder, will you ? ” 

A figure was making an effort to catch hold of the 
steamer as the boat slipped by, and then a trailing rope 
was caught. 


342 


THE DEVIL’S PULPIT 


“ Shall I cut it loose? ” shouted Digby to Marley, 
as he lifted his knife. 

“ What’s that? ” screamed Marley. 

“ Marley ! ” came the voice from below. Here’s the 
girl’s uncle. Upon my davy, that’s all we want.” 

“ Shall we take him aboard? ” said Marley in my 
ear. 

He was bewildered, and did not know how to act at 
this remarkable development. 

“ Don’t trust them, no,” I cried back, and yet I 
thought of Ariadne. 

‘‘ Marley ! ” shouted the voice, ‘‘ give us a ladder.” 

But even as I watched I saw someone out of the mist 
and the twilight swarming up the side of the tramp. 
He climbed fast, and soon was level with the bulwarks ; 
but now Marley had made up his mind at last. 

“ Back ! ” he called. “ Back, damn you ! ” 

He thrust out an empty hand to emphasise his com- 
mand, and inadvertently knocked me round, so that I 
found myself looking into the pale face of Byrne by 
my side. 

Clifford rose, with his arm on the bulwarks, and below 
other figures were moving in this reckless attempt to 
carry the steamer by boarding. 

“By God, you first!” cried Clifford, and fired with 
his left hand straight into Byrne’s face. Then I hit 
him with my fist, and he fell back, tumbling with the 
others into the boat. At the same time the Duncannon 
breasted a huge wave, and her snout rose out of the 
water. She settled again, with an inrushing flood of 


THE SEVENTH CHEST 


343 


water, which swept us into the scuppers. When I got 
to my feet Byrne’s body was bumping about against 
the thwarts, but nothing was visible in the sea. The 
boat had vanished. 

“ She’s turned turtle,” said Marley in my ears. ‘‘ My 
God, I saw her go. She was like a cockle. And that’s 
the end ! ” 

There could be no doubt of the fate of the mutineers, 
and, I supposed, of the wretched Frenchman. No boat 
could have survived in that sea, and in talking it over 
afterwards we were always amazed at the recklessness 
with which Clifford had played his last card. But the 
fact that it was his last card probably explained his 
action. There was nothing left for him in that ulti- 
mate scene except the forlorn hope of an attempt on the 
vessel in the darkness and confusion of the storm. His 
criminal and daring spirit had not hesitated. About us 
was no sound now, save the brawling of the wind and the 
waters, and the Duncannon was slowly forging away 
from that accursed island. 

I went down to Ariadne to reassure her. 

“ Is it — what is it? ” she asked. 

“ We are safe,” I said. “ It was the last of the muti- 
neers.” 

“ And — and uncle.^^ ” she asked. 

I bowed my head. It was better so. You shall 
know later,” I said. “ Rest now in safety. We are 
going to Kingston in Jamaica; and then you can com- 
municate with friends in New York.” 

Her under lip moved pitifully. “ But — ^but you wiU 


344 . 


THE DEVIL^S PULPIT 


come with me,” she said, sobbing. I — I am all 

alone.” 

I promised her. 

Halliday, white as a sheet, and supporting himself 
by the rails, met me on my way up. 

“ It’s awful, Herapath,” he said, with a groan. “ It’s 

just awful. If I had known ” He paused, and 

his optimism and his methodical habit asserted itself 
through his physical and mental condition. “We must 
go into the allotment of shares soon’s we get to Kings- 
ton. But I guess we’ll fix it all right,” he said. 

I went to my engine-room, and found Collins. He 
had everything in apple-pie order, like the good soul 
he was. I took charge. 

“ Full speed! ” was signalled from the bridge. 

Full speed it was. We were riding out of the gale 
like a brave tub. And in my ears was the drumming of 
the engines, even above the roar and clatter of water 
and wind; and in my eyes was the face of Ariadne, safe 
now from all storms and troubles in her cabin. 


THE END 





















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